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JOHN  R.  COOK. 


THE  BOi^DEH  AND  THE  BUFFALO 


AN   UNTOLD    STORY  OP   THE 
SOUTHWEST   PLAINS 


Tlie  Bloody  Border  of  Missouri  and  Kansas. 

The  Story  of  the  Slaughter  of  the 

Buffalo.    Westward  among 

the  Big  Game  and 

Wild  Tribes. 


A  STORY  OF  MOUNTAIN  AND  PLAIN 


BY 

JOHN   R  COOK 


MONOTYPED   AND    PRINTED 

Bt  crane  &   COMPANY 

TOPEKA,    KANSAS 

1907 


All  rights  reserved. 


Copyrighted  January,  1907, 
By  John  R.  Cook. 


The  Border  and  the  Buffalo 


BY 
JOHN  R.  COOK 


Especially  dedicated  to  my  crippled  wife,  who 
patiently  assisted  and  encouraged  me  to  write 
this  book;  and  to  Sol  Reese,  Mortimer  N. 
Kress  ("Wild  Bill");  also,  that  noble  band  of 
Butfalo  hunters  who  stood  shoulder  to  shoulder 
and  fought  Kiowa s,  Comanches,  and  Staked 
Plains  Apaches,  during  the  summer  of  1877  on 
the  Llano  Estacado,  or  the  Staked  Plains  of 
Western  Texas  and  Eastern  New  Mexico, 
whose  memories  will  ever  pleasantly  abide  with 

The  Author 


IISrTRODUCTION. 


In  presenting  these  Reminiscences  to  the  reader  the  au- 
thor wishes  to  say  that  they  were  written  and  compiled 
by  an  uneducated  man,  who  is  now  63  years  of  age,  with 
no  pretensions  to  literary  attainments,  having  a  very 
meager  knowledge  of  the  common-school  branches.  In 
placing  these  recollections  in  book  form  there  is  an  en- 
deavor all  along  the  line  to  state  the  facts  as  they  occurred 
to  me.  The  tragic  deaths  seen  by  the  aulhor  in  dance- 
hall  and  saloon  have  been  omitted,  in  this  work.  But 
to  that  band  of  hardy,  tireless  hunters  that  helped,  as  all 
army  officers  declared,  more  to  settle  the  vexed  Indian 
question  in  the  five  years  of  the  greatest  destruction  of 
wild  animals  in  the  history  of  the  world's  hunting,  the  au- 
thor especially  devotes  that  portion  of  the  book  pertain- 
ing to  the  buffaloes.  The  incidents  connected  with  the 
tragic  death  of  Marshall  Sewall  will  be  appreciated,  I 
trust,  by  all  lovers  of  fair  play.  Thomas  Lumpkins  met  his 
death  in  a  manner  that  could  be  expected  by  all  old  plains- 
men. There  were  so  many  tragic  incidents  that  occurred 
during  the  author's  experience  after  leaving  New  Mexico, 
that  it  was  difficult  for  him  to  segregate  one  event  from 
another,  in  order  to  prepare  a  presentable  book, — one 
that  could  be  read  in  every  home  in  the  land  without 
shocking  the  finer  sensibilities  of  the  reader.  And  it  is 
the  sincere  hope  and  desire  of  the  author  that  this  design 

and  object  have  been  accomplished. 

JOHN  R.  COOK. 


CONTEI^TS. 


Page. 

Chapter  I, 1 

Boyhood  in  Territory  of  Kansas,  1857. — Day  Fort  Sumter 
was  Fired  on. — First  Confederate  Army  at  Independence, 
Missouri- — Search  for  Guns. — A  Glimpse  of  Quan trill. — Guer- 
rillas and  the  Money  Belt. — My  Uniform. — Quantrill  at  Bax- 
ter Springs. 

Chapter  II, 27 

Early  Settlements  of  Southeast  Kansas. — Texas  Cattle 
Fever  Trouble. — The  Osage  Indians  and  Firewater. — Poor 
Mrs.  Bennett. — How  Terwillijer's  Cattle  Stampeded. — Why 
the  Curtises  Moved  On. — The  Odens  Murder  Parker. — 
Parker  was  Avenged. — Jane  Heaton  and  Her  Smith  & 
Wesson  Revolver. — What  Became  of  the  Benders. 

Chapter  III, 45 

A  Trip  to  New  Mexico. — ^Prospecting  Around  the  Base  of 
Mount  Baldy. — My  Experience  with  a  Cinnamon  Bear. — 
Wail  of  the  Mountain  Lion. — Tattooed  Natives,  Bound  for 
the  Texas  Panhandle. — I  Lanced  a  Buffalo. — Loaned  My 
Gun  and  Suffered. 

Chapter  IV, 59 

"Lost"— "Alone  at  Night  in  the  Wilds"— "I  Quick- 
sanded  in  the  Canadian." — The  Beaver  Played  in  the  Water. 
— Second  Day  and  Night  it  Snowed. — The  Wolves  Serenade 
Me.— Was  Getting  Snowblind.— Third  Night  Out,  Suffered 
in  Body  and  Mind. — Following  Morning,  Found  Adobe 
Walls. — And  the  Good  Samaritans  were  There. 

Chapter  V, 81 

We  Move. — Acres  of  Buflfalo. — Indian  Scare — Killed  Two 
Bear. — First  Wedding  in  the  Panhandle. — At  Last — Fort 
Elliot. — Meet  Romero  and  Son. — The  Great  Buflfalo-slayerTN 
— What  Gen.  Sheridan  Said. — The  Great  Slaughter  Began.  / 

(ix) 


CONTENTS 


ge. 

Chapter  VI, 116 

(Two  Hundred  and  Three  Killed  at  One  Time. — How  We 
Skinned  Buffalo. — I  saw  a  Panther.— Cyrus  saw  a  Bear. — 
I  Killed  an  Eagle. — A  Great,  Moving  Mass  of  Buffalo. — I 
Kill  a  Cougar. — Hickey,  the  Hide-buyer. — Cyrus  Meets  a 
Bear. — The  Wounded  Panther. — The  Weird  Night  Watch. 
— Left  Alone. — On  Meat  Straight,  Fourteen  Days. 

Chapter  VII,         151 

Hides  Bound  for  the  Railroad. — I  Go  Into  Partnership. — 
We  Start  North.— Grand  WUd  Animal  Show.— The  Wichita 
Mountains. — Wrong-wheel  Jones. — I  Killed  Eighty-eight 
Buffalo. — I  was  Verdigris- Poisoned. — Traded  Eagle  Feathers 
for  Pony. — Back  South  for  a  Winter's  Hunt. 

Chapter  VIII, 180 

-—.Indian  Rumors. — Nigger  Horse  Runs  Away. — A  Close 
Midnight  Call. — A  Comanche  Shoots  at  Me. — Rankin  Moore 
Kills  His  Horse. — Diabolical  Deeds. — Killing  and  Scalping 
of  Sewall. — We  Dug  His  Grave  with  Butcher-knives. — The 
Pocket  Canon  Fight. — Hosea. — They  Scatter  Like  Quails. — 
Plains  Telegraphy. 

Chapter  IX, 213 

The  Warrior's  Last  Ride. — Muffled  Feet. — Bit  off  More 
Than  We  Could  Chew. — The  Cunning  Warriors  Tricked  Us. 
— We  Carried  Water  in  My  Boots. — Captain  Lee  Captures 
Their  Camp. — How  Lumpkins  was  Killed. — The  Sewall  Gun 
Hoodooed  the  Comanches. — The  Blood-curdling  Yell,  and 
We  were  Afoot. — They  Sure  Waked  Us  Up. — Gathering  the 
Clams. 

Chapter  X, 246 

The  Staked  Plains  Horror. — A  Forlorn  Hope. — The  Fate 
of  the  Benders. — Captain  Nolan  and  His  Troopers. — Quana 
Parker. — Rees,  the  Hero  of  the  Hour. — Drinking  Horse- 
blood. 


CONTENTS  XI 


Page. 
Chapter  XI, 274 

Water  at  Last.— "Yes,  Sah"— "Take  Him,  Sah."— They 
Had  Given  Up  to  Die.— Rees  Said,  "Find  Carr."— He  was 
Lying  in  the  Shade  of  His  Horse. — It  was  Rees  and  the 
Three  Men. — We  Ignited  Soap-Balls. — Twenty  Years  in 
Prison. — We  are  All  Here. — We  Gather  up  some  Horses. — 
/Last  Great  Slaughter  of  the  BuflFalo. — Our  Kangaroo  Court, 
Always  in  Session. — Judge  ("Wild  Bill")  I^ess  on  the 
Bench. 

Chapter  XII, 297 

Sol  Rees.— Dull  Knife  Raid,  1878.— His  Night  Ride 
from  Kirwin  to  the  Prairie  Dog. — Elected  Captain  of  the 
Settlers. — Single-handed  Combat  with  a  Warrior  on  the 
Sappa. — Meeting  Major  Mock  and  U.  S.  Soldiers. — Sworn  in 
as  Guide  and  Scout. — On  a  Hot  Trail. — The  Four  Butchered 
Settlers  on  the  Beaver. — Finds  Lacerated,  Nude  Girl. — On  , 
the  Trail. — Finds  Annie  Bangle's  Wedding  Dress. — Over- 
took Played-out  Warrior. — Hurry  to  Ogalalla. — Lost  the 
Trail. — Goes  to  New  Mexico. — Meets  Kit  Carson's  Widow. — 
Down  with  Mountain  Fever. — Living  at  Home  in  Quiet. 

Chapter  XIII, 315 

Mortimer  N.  Kress  ("  Wild  BiU  ").— His'Heroic  Example 
at  the  Battle  of  Casa  Amarilla. — His  Unselfish  Generosity. 
— His  Sublime  Fortitude  in  the  Hour  of  Distress. — He 
Stood  as  a  Buflfer  between  Savagery  and  Civilization. — He 
is  Geography  Itself. 

Chapter  XIV, 324 

M.  V.  Daily. 


MISCELLANEOUS  STORIES  OF  BUFFALO  LAND. 

Stampede  of  the  Wheel-Oxen, 329 

Favorite  Hunting-Grounds, 339 

The  Unseen  Tragedy, 344 

Bellfield  and  the  Dried  Apples, 346 

An  Incident  of  Ben  Jackson's  Experience, 348 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTEATIONS. 


John  R.  Cook, Frontispiece 

^  Page. 

The  Oldest  Inhabitant, ,      .      .56 

Cook  Serenaded  by  Wolves, 72 

Nigger  Horse  and  His  Horse, 182 

Comanche  Medicine  Man,         193 

Indians  Killing  Buffalo  in  Texas, 198 

An  Apache  Family, 218 

Pocket  Canon  Fight, 224 

Staked  Plains  Fight, 237 

Mrs.  Alice  V    Cook, 294 

Wayne  Solomon  Rees, 295 

John  Nelson  Crump, 295 

Sol  Rees, 298 

Fight  of  Sol  Rees  with  Indian, 303 

Mortimer  N.  ("Wild  Bill")  Kress, 316 

Alene  Kress, 318 

Mart.  Dailey, 325 

Spring  of  the  Shining  Rock, 352 


(xii) 


THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 


CHAPTER  I. 


Boyhood  in  Territory  of  Kansas,  1857. — Day  Fort  Sumter  was  Fired 
On. — First  Confederate  Army  at  Independence,  Missouri. — Search 
for  Guns. — Glimpse  of  Quan trill. — Guerrillas  and  the  Money 
Belt. — My  Uniform. — Quantrill  at  Baxter  Springs. 

I  was  bom  in  Mount  Gilead,  Ohio,  on  the  19th  of  Decem- 
ber, 1844.  Father  moved  his  family  to  Lawrence,  Kansas, 
in  the  spring  of  1857.  That  summer  we  occupied  the  his- 
torical log  cabin  that  J.  H.  Lane  and  Gains  Jenkins  had 
trouble  over, — resulting  in  the  tragic  death  of  the  latter. 
Shortly  prior  to  the  killing  of  Jenkins,  we  moved  to  Peru, 
Indiana,  where  we  remained  until  the  latter  part  of  March, 
1861,  when  the  family  returned  to  Kansas.  Myself  and 
oldest  brother  traveled  overland  by  team  and  wagon.  We 
had  three  head  of  horses.  We  left  the  State  line  of  In- 
diana at  Danville,  and  crossed  the  Mississippi  to  Hannibal, 
Missouri,  the  day  that  General  Beauregard  fired  on  Fort 
Sumter.  And  the  War  of  the  Rebellion  was  on.  As  we 
were  driving  up  a  street,  in  the  evening  of  that  great  day, 
an  old  gentleman  standing  at  the  gate  in  front  of  a  cottage 
hailed  us  and  asked  where  we  were  going.  "To  Kansas," 
was  brother's  reply. 

The  old  gentleman  walked  out  to  where  we  had  stopped, 
and  said:    **Boys,  you  are  goin'  into  a  peck  of  trouble. 

(1) 


Z  THE^ BORDER   AND   THE    BUFFALO. 

Gineral  Buregard  cannonaded  Fort  Sumter  to-day,  and 
is  at  it  yit.  Boys,  I'd  turn  round  and  go  back  to  whar 
ye  come  frum." 

Brother  said :  "No,  Uncle,  we  could  never  think  of  such 
a  thing.  Our  father  and  mother  are  now  at  I^awrence, 
Kansas,  and  we  must  go  to  them." 

He  replied :  "That  place  you  are  going  to  will  be  a  dan- 
gerous place.  There  has  already  been  a  power  of  trouble 
out  thar  whar  you  are  goin',  and  thar's  bound  to  be  a  heap 
more;  and  all  over  the  nigger,  too.  I  own  nineteen  of 
'em,  but  if  it  would  stop  the  spillin'  of  blood  I  would  free 
every  one  of  'em  to-night." 

This  old  gentleman  had  a  kind,  pleasant-looking  face 
wore  the  typical  planter's  hat,  and  seemed  to  take  a 
fatherly  interest  in  us;  directed  us  to  a  certain  farm 
house  on  our  road  where  we  could  get  accommodations 
for  the  night.  And  we  passed  on,  having  for  the  first  time 
in  our  lives  seen  and  talked  with  the  owner  of  human 
chattels. 

Some  neighbors  came  to  the  house  where  we  stayed  that 
night,  and  in  earnest  fireside  talk  conveyed  the  idea  that 
there  would  be  no  war;  for,  said  they,  when  the  North 
finds  out  that  we  are  in  earnest  they  will  not  fight  us. 

My  brother,  being  four  years  older  than  I,  took  part  in 
the  evening's  talk,  and  told  them  that  it  was  but  fair  to 
leave  the  negro  out  of  the  question,  and  to  consider  the 
Union  as  our  forefathers  left  it  to  us,  and  that  he  did  not 
think  that  twenty-odd  millions  of  people  would  consent 
to  have  the  Union  of  our  forefathers  dismembered. 

The  next  day,  as  we  were  passing  through  a  densely 
timbered  region,  an  old  negro  came  out  from  behind  a 
large  tree  near  the  wagon-track.  His  wool  was  white  as 
snow;    his  head  was  bared,  and,  holding  in  one  hand  an 


STORY  OF  THE  SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  3 

apology  for  a  hat,  he  gave  us  a  courteous  bow,  and  said : 
^'Please,  Mars,  is  we  gwine  to  be  free?"  (Their  under- 
ground telegraph  was  already  bringing  word  from  South 
Carolina  to  Missouri.) 

My  brother,  being  more  diplomatic  than  I  could  or  would 
have  been  at  the  time,  said  to  him,  ''Why,  you  surprise 
me,  Grandpop.  You  look  fat  and  sleek  and  I  know  you 
have  mord  freedom  this  minute  than  I  have." 

Passing  on  up  the  State  road  that  leads  through  Inde- 
pendence, in  Jackson  county,  I  could  not  help  but  notice 
the  change  that  had  come  over  my  brother.  All  along  the 
route  we  had  passed  over  we  would  talk  about  and  com- 
ment on  places  we  passed,  objects  we  viewed,  and  anything 
amusing  he  would  make  the  most  of,  to  have  the  time 
pass  as  pleasantly  as  we  could.  But  now  his  face  had 
taken  on  a  more  serious  look.  He  seemed  at  times  to  be 
more  concerned  than  I  ever  remembered  him  to  be  before. 
Twelve  miles  before  arriving  at  Independence,  he  said  to 
me: 

"John,  I  will  do  all  of  the  talking  from  this  on,  when  we 
meet  anyone,  or  when  in  presence  of  anybody." 

He  afterwards  told  me  the  reason  he  had  suggested  this 
to  me  was,  that  the  man  of  the  house  where  we  had  stayed 
the  night  before  had  told  him  that  a  large  Confederate 
army  was  being  recruited  at  Independence ;  that  the  block- 
ade was  in  force,  and  that  all  people  bound  for  Kansas  were 
forbidden  to  pass  on  through  to  that  State.  My  brother 
did  not  wish  to  be  caught  on  any  contradictory  statements 
that  I  might  make. 

We  had  traveled  only  about  three  miles  after  charging 
me  to  not  talk,  when  suddenly  five  men  on  horseback  rode 
up  behind  us,  and,  slowing  down,  engaged  in  conversation 


4  THE  BOEDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

with  my  brother.  I  listened  very  attentively  to  the  fol- 
lowing dialogue : 

''Whar  you-uns  goin'  to?" 

'^To  Kansas." 

The  speaker  said:  "We  air  too,  purty  soon.  Me  and 
this  feller  was  out  thar  four  year  ago/'  pointing  to  one  of 
the  party,  and  meaning  the  border  troubles  of  1856. 
''We're  goin'  after  Jim  Lane  and  a  lot  more  of  the  Free- 
State  Abolitionists.     What  place  you  goin'  to?" 

''Lawrence." 

"Why,  that's  a  AboHtion  hole.     You  a  AboHtion?" 

"Abolition?    What  is  that?"  my  brother  asked. 

"AVhy,  do  you  believe  in  fre.e  niggers?" 

"  I  don't  know  enough  about  the  subject  to  talk  about  it." 

"Whar  did  ye  come  frum?" 

"Indiana." 

One  of  the  others  said,  "Thar  is  whar  I  come  frum." 

The  first  spokesman  said:  "I  come  frum  Arkansaw 
ten  year  ago,  to  the  Sni  hills." 

Whereupon  my  brother  asked,  "What  stream  is  this  we 
are  approaching?"  i 

The  first  spokesman  said,  "This  here  crick  is  the  Blue," 
and  added,  "you-uns  '11  never  git  to  Kansis." 

My  brother  shifted  his  position  in  the  wagon-seat  so  as 
to  face  the  speaker,  and  asked,  "Why  do  you  say  that?" 

"Oh,  because  the  provost  marshal  will  stop  ye  when  ye 
git  to  town,"  meaning  Independence. 

My  brother's  name  was  Ralph  Emerson,  the  family  all 
calling  him  "Em"  or  "Emerson." 

I  said,  "Emerson,  I  want  a  drink  of  water." 

Just  as  he  crossed  the  stream  he  stopped  the  team,  took 
a  tin  cup  that  we  carried  along,  and  got  down  and  handed 
me  up  a  cup  of  water;   and  the  five  horsemen  rode  on. 


STORY  OF  THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  O 

As  they  were  leaving  us,  the  first  spokesman  said,  "We'll 
see  ye  up  town,  boys." 

As  we  were  passing  up  the  main  street  in  Independence, 
we  were  aware  that  we  were  very  much  observed.  This 
being  the  very  earliest  period  of  the  war,  there  were  no 
CJonfederate  uniforms,  but  in  order  to  distinguish  an  en- 
listed man  from  a  civilian  each  soldier  had  a  chevron  of 
white  muslin  sewed  diagonally  across  his  left  arm.  The 
strip  was  about  two  inches  wide  and  five  or  six  inches  long. 
These  soldiers  were  to  compose  a  portion  of  what  was  af- 
terwards known  as  the  famous  flower  of  the  Southwestern 
Army,  C.  S.  A. 

When  we  arrived  about  the  central  part  of  the  town,  we 
were  halted.  The  man  who  halted  us  had  on  his  left  arm, 
in  addition  to  the  white  chevron,  one  of  red,  just  above  the 
white  one,  on  which  were  some  letters,  but  I  do  not  remem- 
ber what  they  were.  He  had  a  cavalryman's  saber  and  a 
Colt's  revolver  on  his  person.  After  halting  us,  he  called 
to  two  other  men,  saying,  "Come  and  search  this  wagon." 

Just  as  the  men  were  climbing  into  the  wagon  we  were 
asked  where  we  were  going. 

"To  Kansas,"  said  my  brother. 

"Go  ahead— search  that  wagon,"  said  the  man  who 
halted  us. 

Pretty  soon  one  of  the  searchers  said,  "Sargent,  here  is 
a  box  of  guns  on  their  way  to  that  d — d  Abolition  country." 

I  laughed  in  spite  of  myself. 

To  diverge  a  little:  My  father  had  been  a  cabinet- 
maker in  his  earlier  life,  and  he  had  purchased  a  nice  set 
of  cane-seat  chairs  while  we  lived  in  Indiana.  They  were 
put  together  with  dowel  pins,  and  he  thought  as  we  boys 
had  no  load  he  would  take  them  apart  and  pack  them  in 


b  .  THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

a  box,  and  we  would  haul  them  to  Kansas.  It  so  happened 
that  the  box  he  nlade  to  pack  the  chairs  in  did  very  much 
resemble  a  gun  box,  and  I  was  forcibly  reminded  of  the 
similarity  in  October,  1862,  when  my  company  was  open- 
ing some  gun  boxes  at  Lawrence  to  arm  ourselves  with, 
when  we  were  now  sure-enough  soldiers. 

The  sergeant  ordered  Emerson  to  turn  the  team  around. 
One  of  the  horses  was  tied  behind  the  wagon.  He  was  a 
large  bay  gelding,  and  as  the  team  swung  around  on  a 
haw  pull,  I  noticed  'Tharlie,''  the  horse',  had  been  untied 
from  the  wagon  and  was  being  led  through  the  crowd.  In 
an  instant  I  was  off  of  the  wagon,  wound  my  way  through 
the  crowd,  jerked  the  halter-strap  out  of  the  fellow's 
hands  that  was  leading  '^ Charlie,"  and  with  a  bound  I  was 
astride  of  as  fine  a  horse  as  was  in  all  Missouri.  The 
crowd  set  up  a  yell,  but  it  had  more  of  the  cheer  in  it 
than  that  fearful  Rebel  yell  we  dreaded  to  hear  in  after 
years. 

The  crowd  was  now  so  dense  around  the  wagon  that  the 
way  had  to  be  cleared  for  us  to  follow  the  sergeant,  who 
was  leading  the  way  to  the  Provost  Marshal's  office.  I 
cannot  remember  of  ever  being  the  center  of  so  much  at- 
traction as  we  were  that  day. 

Arriving  at  the  Provost  office,  we  were  ordered  inside. 
I  tied  '^Charlie"  by  one  of  his  mates,  and  accompanied  my 
brother  inside,  where  we  were  seated.  On  the  opposite 
side  of  a  table  or  desk  from  where  we  were  was  seated  a 
large,  florid-faced  gentleman  about  sixty  years  of  age. 
He  had  a  frank,  open  countenance,  wore  gold-rimmed 
glasses,  and  was  twirling  a  gold-headed  cane  in  his  hands. 
The  sergeant  saluted  him,  and  said : 

'Tolonel,  these  boys  are  smuggling  guns  through  to 
Kansas." 


STORY   OF  THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  7 

The  Colonel  replied:  ''That  is  a  very  serious  business, 
indeed." 

My  brother  arose  and  said:  "Colonel,  that  is  all  a  mis- 
take. That  box  contains  nothing,  but  a  set  of  cane-seat 
chairs,  together  with  strips  of  carpet  and  the  necessary 
wrappings  to  keep  the  varnish  from  being  scratched  and 
the  furniture  from  being  defaced." 

The  old  Colonel,  as  they  called  him,  arose,  and,  walking 
to  the  door,  asked:    "Sergeant,  where  are  those  guns?" 

"In  a  box  in  that  wagon  by  the  door,"  came  the  answer. 
,  "Have  the  box  put  on  the  sidewalk  here  and  opened," 
which  was  done,  and  found  to  contain  just  what  Emerson 
had  told  them. 

The  Colonel  came  close  to  where  we  were  sitting  and 
asked  where  we  came  from,  and  being  answered,  he  asked 
to  what  particular  part  of  Kansas  we  were  going  to.  Em- 
erson said  we  were  going  to  Lawrence,  but  as  the  Shawnee 
Indians  could  now  sell  their  lands  we  expected  to  purchase 
land  of  them  in  Johnson  county. 

"Sergeant,"  said  the  Colonel,  see  that  these  boys  are 
safely  conducted  outside  of  our  lines  on  the  road  to  Kansas 
City,"  and  said  to  us,  "That  is  all." 

We  went  to  the  wagon,  my  brother  driving  the  team 
and  I  bringing  up  the  rear  on  "Charlie." 

Coming  around  a  bend  and  seeing  our  flag  floating  over 
Kansas  City,  I  hurrahed,  when  my  brother  stopped  me 
and  made  me  tie  the  horse  to  the  wagon  and  get  up  on  the 
seat  beside  him.  He  said  to  me  very  sharply:  "Young 
man,  wait  until  you  are  out,  of  the  woods  before  you  crow. 
Wait  until  we  get  to  Lawrence — then  we  will  be  all  right." 

Poor  boy!  little  did  I  think  then  what  was  in  store  for 
our  country  and  him,  and  that  he  would  be  the  sacrifice 
our  father  and  mother  had  laid  upon  their  country's  altar. 


8  THE  BOEDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

He  barely  escaped  with  his  life  at  the  sacking  of  Olathe,  to 
be  finally  wholly  deceived,  surprised  and  shot  down  by  a 
volley  from  Quantrill's  bushwhackers  at  Baxter  Springs, 
Oct.  6,  1863, — twenty-seven  bullets  crashing  through  his 
body.  Of  this,  more  extended  mention  will  be  made  here- 
after. 

We  drove  that  afternoon  and  evening  through  Kansas 
City  and  Westport,  and  arrived  at  the  old  Shawnee  Mis- 
sion late  in  the  evening,  having  crossed  the  Missouri  border 
in  the  evening  twilight,  and  were  once  again  on  Kansas 
soil,  whose  eighty  thousand  and  odd  square  miles  of  ter- 
ritory had  given,  would  yet,  and  did  give  more  lives  for 
liberty  and  Union  than  any  other  State  in  the  Union  ac- 
cording to  her  population. 

The  next  day  in  the  afternoon  we  drove  up  Massachu- 
setts street,  in  Lawrence.  We  noticed  the  absence  of  the 
circular  rifle-pits — one  at  the  south  end  of  the  street,  the 
other  near  the  Eldridge  House ;  but  we  noticed  the  pres- 
ence of  men  in  blue  uniforms.  Then  we  noticed  our  father, 
and  in  a  few  moments  our  family  were  united.  Father 
and  mother  had  been  very  solicitous  about  us.  Such  men 
as  E.  R.  Falley,  S.  N.  Wood  and  others  telling  father  that 
if  we  ever  got  through  Missouri  at  all  it  would  be  a  miracle, 
on  account  of  the  blockade.  All  i  Lawrence  was  up  and 
preparing  to  answer  back  the  fatal  shot  that  Beauregard 
had  fired.  And  the  flag  we  already  loved  so  well  took  on 
a  new  meaning  to  me. 

The  next  day  our  family  moved  down  through  Eudora 
and  on  out  to  Hesper,  where,  just  over  the  line  in  Johnson 
county,  my  father  purchased  two  hundred  acres  of  Shaw- 
nee Indian  land,  on  Captain's  creek.  On  this  land  my 
father,  mother,  a  sister  and  two  little  brothers  lived  during 
the  Slaveholders'  RebeUion ;   and  after  the  Quantrill  raid- 


STORY   OF   THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  9 

ers  passed  our  house  that  memorable  August  night  in  1863, 
to  do  at  Lawrence  what  the  world  already  knows,  that 
mother  and  sister  carried  from  the  house,  boxes  and  trunks 
so  heavily  laden  with  household  goods  to  a  cornfield,  that 
when  the  excitement  and  danger  were  over  they  could  not 
lift  them,  when  they  found  the  ruffians  did  not  return  that 
way. 

Before  drifting  these  chapters  to  the  early  settlements 
of  southern  Kansas,  and  finally  to  the  mountains  and 
plains  of  the  Southwest,  the  author  deems  it  pertinent  and 
relevant  to  follow  more  or  less  the  Kansas  and  Missouri 
border,  and  on  down  through  Indian  Territory  and  Arkan- 
sas, from  1862  to  1865,  the  final  ending  of  the  rebellion, 
which  found  me  at  Little  Rock,  Arkansas.  One  incident 
occurred  during  the  winter  of  1861  that  gave  me  my  first 
glimpse  of  a  Missouri  guerrilla.  My  brother  Emerson  was 
teaching  school  at  Hesper.  One  afternoon,  one  of  the 
scholars  left  a  bright-red  shawl  on  the  playground  at  re- 
cess. The  road  from  Lawrence  to  Olathe  ran  through  this 
playground.  I  was  seated  near  a  window  at  the  south  side 
of  the  school-room,  in  plain  view  of  the  road  and  shawl, 
when  I  noticed  three  men  traveling  east.  One  of  them 
dismounted  and  picked  up  the  shawl,  and,  mounting  his 
horse,  the  three  rode  on.  I  called  my  brother's  attention 
to  the  fact.  He  went  to  the  door  and  called  to  the  men, 
saying,  *^  Bring  back  that  shawl."  They  looked  back  and 
said  something  to  him  that  he  did  not  understand,  and  rode 
on,  one  of  them  putting  the  shawl  over  his  shoulder.  My 
brother  dismissed  the  school,  and,  going  to  the  nearest 
house,  procured  a  horse  and  overtook  them  at  the  Bentley 
ford,  on  Captain's  cre^k,  and  brought  back  the  shawl. 
The  words  that  Turpin  of  Olathe  and  his  Missouri  pals 
used   when  my  brother  overtook  them  were  afterward 


10  THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

remembered  by  one  of  these  desperadoes  as  he  was  lying 
on  the  floor  of  a  shack  on  the  west  side  of  the  pubhc  square 
in  Olathe,  his  Ufe  ebbing  away  from  mortal  gunshot  wounds 
from  Sheriff  John  Janes  Torsey,  of  Johnson  county.  My 
brother,  stooping  over  him,  asked  the  dying  bushwhacker 
if  he  remembered  him.  ^'Yes,"  came  the  feeble  answer, 
''and  I  am  sorry  I  said  what  I  did  to  you  when  you  came 
after  the  shawl  last  winter." 

My  next  sight  of  a  guerilla  was  in  the  summer  of  1862, 
at  Eudora.  A  German  named  Henry  Bausman  kept  a 
road-house  just  north  of  the  Wakarusa  bridge,  on  the  Law- 
rence road.  He  kept  beer,  pies,  cakes,  bologna  sausage, 
and  cheese  to  sell  to  travelers.  His  son  Henry  was  about 
my  age,  and  I  thought  a  good  deal  of  him,  and  when  I 
would  make  the  seven-mile  ride  from  home  to  Eudora  for 
the  mail,  I  would  cross  the  bridge  and  have  a  few  mo- 
ments chat  with  young  Henry.  On  this  particular  occa- 
sion we  were  in  the  garden,  not  twenty  steps  from  the  road, 
when  we  saw  a  man  approaching  from  the  timber  from 
the  direction  of  Lawrence.  It  was  the  man  that  terror- 
ized the  border — Charles  William  Quantrill.  But  we  did 
not  know  it  at  the  time.  He  dismounted,  tied  his  horse 
to  a  hitching-rack  in  front  of  the  house,  and  went  inside. 
Henry  said  to  me : 

''John,  I  believe  that  fellow  is  some  kind  of  a  spy.  He 
has  passed  here  several  times  in  the  last  year,  always  go- 
ing the  same  way.     Let's  go  inside  and  see  him." 

When  we  came  into  the  front  part  of  the  house  where 
Bausman  kept  his  beer  and  eatables,  Quantrill  was  sitting 
on  a  bench  with  his  back  against  the  wall.  He  would  look 
towards  the  living-room  in  the  house,  then  toward  the 
front  entrance,  and  two  different  times  he  got  up  and 
walked  to  the  door,  looking  up  and  down  the  road.     He 


STORY   OF   THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  11 

had  on  two  revolvers ;  his  overshirt  was  red,  and  he  wore 
a  sailor's  necktie.  After  he  left  and  had  crossed  the  bridge 
going  through  Eudora,  I  got  on  my  pony  and  started  for 
home.  When  Quant  rill  got  to  the  old  stage  line  he  turned 
towards  Kansas  City,  I  crossing  the  trail  going  on  southeast 
to  my  home. 

How  did  I  know  it  was  Quantrill?  Only  by  the  general 
description  afterwards. 

In  the  month  of  August,  1863,  at  Fort  Scott,  Kansas, 
Henry  brought  me  the  first  published  news  of  the  Law- 
rence massacre.  Henry  being  a  poor  reader,  I  read  to  him 
the  account  of  the  horrible  butchery,  after  which  he  said : 

*^0h  if  we  only  knew  that  that  was  him  at  our  house 
last  summer  how  easy  we  might  have  saved  all  this  bloody 
work,  for  he  must  have  been  planning  this  terrible  deed; 
and  just  to  think  my  father  had  two  gims  loaded  leaning 
against  the  wall  at  the  head  of  the  bed  he  and  mother 
sleeps  in.  We  could  have  killed  him  so  easy  and  saved 
the  town."  Henry  was  my  good  German  comrade,  for  we 
were  then  both  soldiers  in  the  same  company. 

Early  in  August,  1862,  a  gentleman.  Booth  by  name, 
came  into  our  neighborhood  buying  steers  and  oxen  to  be 
used  in  hauling  military  supplies  to  New  Mexico  over  the 
old  Santa  F6  Trail.  The  train  was  being  outfitted  at  the 
old  outfitting  post  near  West  port.  My  father  sold  Mr. 
Booth  several  head  of  cattle  and  he  added  to  this  purchase 
many  more  in  the  neighborhood,  but  could  not  get  near 
as  many  as  he  wanted.  He  got  my  father's  permission  to 
help  him  drive  the  cattle  to  the  outfitting  station. 

We  started  the  cattle  from  my  father's  farm  the  after- 
noon of  the  16th  day  of  August,  1862,  and  drove  them  to 
Lexington,  about  four  miles  from  home,  on  the  old  Kansas 
City  &  Topeka  stage  line.    There  was  a  large  hotel  there 


12  THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

and  we  put  up  for  the  night,  turning  the  cattle  in  a  lot 
or  corral  and  putting  our  horses  in  the  stable.  We  went 
to  the  house  and  were  standing  on  the  front  porch  facing 
the  stage  road  when  suddenly  Mr.  Booth  said:  '^ Johnny, 
come  with  me,  quick!"  and  passing  through  the  house 
and  on  out  and  into  the  barn,  and  as  I  followed  him  in  he 
said  ''shut  the  door." 

He  was  nervous  and  excited.  He  took  off  his  revolver 
belt  and  unbuttoning  his  clothes  as  if  he  was  going  to 
disrobe  he  took  from  his  waist  a  broad  soft  belt,  saying : 
''Here,  get  this  around  your  waist  quickly;  unbutton  your 
pants  and  get  the  belt  next  to  your  body."  After  all 
was  arranged  as  he  wished,  he  had  me  take  my  coat  from 
my  saddle  and  put  it  on,  he  saying  "I  know  it  is  very 
warm,  but  please  wear  it  for  a  while."  Then  he  said: 
"Now,  Johnny,  you  are  a  young  farmer  lad  and  would 
not  be  suspected  of  having  any  money.  But  I  would. 
There  is  over  three  thousand  dollars  in  that  belt.  Now 
don't  say  a  word  about  it." 

We  had  no  sooner  got  back  to.  the  porch  than  it  was 
made  plain  to  me  what  had  caused  Mr.  Booth's  quick 
actions.  Looking  down  the  stage  line  towards  Monticello 
we   saw   approaching   about   twenty-five   mounted   men. 

They  came  up  within  a  hundred  and  fifty  steps  of  us 
and  halted  and  for  quite  a  little  bit  seemed  to  be  holding 
a  council. 

Presently  three  of  the  party  came  on  up  to  the  hotel. 
Mr.  B.  accosted  them  with  "How  do  you  do,  gentlemen?" 
The  courtesies  of  the  day  passed  when  one  of  the  three 
asked  "are  you  the  proprietor?"  Getting  a  negative 
answer,  another  one  asked  if  he  could  tell  them  how  far 
it  was  to  Lanesfield  on  the  Santa  Fe  trail,  and  what  di- 
rection it  was.    Mr.  B.  said  "perhaps  this  boy  can  tell  you." 


STORY   OF  THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  13 

I  stepped  to  the  corner  of  the  house  and  told  them  it 
was  about  twelve  miles  in  this  direction,  pointing  toward 
the  place.  They  asked  ''What  creek  is  that  we  crossed 
back  yonder?"  I  answered  Kill  creek.  One  of  them 
said  "I  thought  so  when  we  crossed  it,  but  was  not  sure.". 
Another  said,  'Hhen  that  is  the  way  we  want  to  go  up  that 
west  prong;"  and  saying  good-by  they  rode  back  to  their 
companions  and  all  turned  south  and  rode  over  the  un- 
settled prairie  toward  Lanesfield. 

One  of  the  three  men  I  noticed  in  particular;  he  had 
red  hair,  short  scrubby  beard  and  the  scar  of  a  recently 
healed  wound  under  his  left  ear.  I  saw  this  same  man's 
lifeless  body  in  December,  1863,  in  the  Boston  Mountains 
in  Arkansas. 

That  evening  after  it  had  become  dark  Mr.  Booth  and 
I  took  some  blankets  and  went  northwest  from  the  house 
some  distance  to  a  swale  and  lay  down  in  the  prairie 
grass  to  sleep.  Mr.  B.  told  me  in  the  morning  he  had  had 
a  bad  night  of  it  and  had  not  been  able  to  sleep  but  little; 
but  I,  a  growing  husky  farmer  boy,  was  sound  asleep  in  a 
jiffy.  Mr.  Booth  said  he  would  give  the  world  if  he  could 
sleep  like  I  did.  He  awoke  me  in  the  early  dawn  and  we 
went  to  the  house. 

After  breakfast  we  saddled  our  horses,  turned  the  cattle 
out  and  grazed  them  down  to  Kill  creek ;  then  after  water- 
ing them  and  grazing  them  a  few  moments  longer  we 
drove  them  past  Monticello  and  made  our  noon  stop  in 
some  scattering  sumac  where  grass  was  good  and  plenti- 
ful. We  ate  our  lunch  that  had  been  put  up  at  the  Lex- 
ington hotel  and  that  evening  drove  to  an  old  Shawnee 
Indian's  on  Mill  creek  and  put  up  for  the  night. 

The  next  day,  when  we  were  about  five  miles  from  the 
outfitting  post,  we  met  a  second  lieutenant  with  twenty- 


14  THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

five  soldiers  sent  out  to  look  for  Mr.  Booth.  Just  at  that 
period  of  the  war  there  was  an  unusual  stir  along  the 
border.  Lots  of  the  guerrillas  from  north  Missouri  had 
worked  their  way  south  to  the  Sni  hills ;  those  from  the 
two  Blues  were  active  and  the  troops  at  Independence 
(Union  troops  now)  were  kept  busy  chasing  the  bush- 
whackers. 

When  the  lieutenant  met  us  he  said  '^ Hello,  Mr.  Booth! 
How  are  you?  We  got  uneasy  about  you  and  they  sent 
me  to  look  you  up." 

'^What  is  the  news?"  asked  Mr.  B.  (It  seemed  that  he 
and  the  officer  were  former  acquaintances.) 

''Well/'  said  the  lieutenant,  ''the  devil  is  to  pay!  We've 
been  getting  the  worst  of  it  for  the  present ;  the  president 
has  called  for  more  troops;  your  uncle  Jim  was  killed  a 
few  days  ago  by  the  Youngers ;  Quantrill  is  going  to  raise 
the  black  flag.  Bill  Anderson,  Spring  River  Baker,  Pony 
Hill,  Cy  Gordon,  and  all  the  guerrilla  leaders  swear  they 
will  make  the  people  over  the  border  earn  the  title  of 
'  Bleeding  Kansas.' " 

That  settled  the  matter  for  me.  I  had  been  importun- 
ing my  father  for  the  past  six  months  to  give  his  consent 
for  me  to  enUst  in  the  army;  but  he  would  say,  "wait 
a  bit ;  let  us  watch.  Maybe  we  will  all  have  to  turn  out. 
We  will  see, — you  are  very  young  for  a  soldier."  But 
this  lieutenant's  running  talk  had  decided  me.  I  would 
go  in  the  army  as  soon  as  I  got  back  home. 

Mr.  Booth  told  the  officer  about  the  mounted  men  we 
saw  at  Lexington.  "Yes,"  said  the  lieutenant,  "that  is 
why  I  was  sent  this  way;  those  fellows  crossed  the  Mis- 
souri at  Lee's  Summit  three  nights  ago  and  went  west 
between  Kansas  City  and  Independence;  but  we  never 
heard  of  it  until  about  midnight  last  night.     They  were 


STORY   OF   THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  15 

headed  off  by  Pennick's  men  from  getting  to  the  Sni 
hills;  but  I  can't  see  how  or  why  they  would  go  so  far 
west  before  turning  south.  But  they  were  thought  to  be 
west  of  here.    Some  think  that  George  Tod  is  their  leader." 

Here  Mr.  Booth  spoke  to  me,  asking,  ''Johnny,  are  you 
afraid  to  start  back  home  alone?" 

I  said  "No,  sir;  I  don't  think  anybody  would  harm  a 
boy."  I  took  the  money  belt  from  my  waist  and  handed 
it  to  Mr.  Booth,  who  took  from  a  purse  in  his  pocket  a 
ten-dollar  bill  and  a  two-dollar  Clark  and  Gruber  bill. 
Handing  them  to  me  he  said,  ''you  are  riding  a  splendid 
horse.  He  is  as  tough  as  a  pine  knot.  Now  you  ride  back 
to  the  old  Shawnee  Indian's,  have  him  feed  your  horse 
and  get  you  all  you  want  to  eat ;  you  can  then  ride  to  your 
father's  by  2  o'clock  to-night."  He  bade  me  good-by, 
saying,  "I  hope  your  folks  will  come  out  of  this  trouble 
without  harm." 

Poor  Booth !  We  learned  that  the  gray  matter  oozed  from 
his  brain  the  following  October,  in  Johnson  county,  Mis- 
souri, he  having  been  shot  in  the  temple  by  the  Youngers. 

I  arrived  home  a  few  minutes  after  the  old  Seth  Thomas 
clock  struck  twelve,  August  19th,  and  on  the  following 
2d  day  of  September  I  enlisted  in  what  wels  known  in  its 
organization  as  Company  E,  Twelfth  Kansas  Infantry, 
Charles  W.  Adams  Colonel,  son-in-law  to  Senator  James 
H.  Lane. 

On  the  following  24th  day  of  December  I  was  17  years 
old.  I  enlisted  at  Lawrence,  was  sworn  into  the  service 
by  James  Steele  of  Emporia,  who  was  my  first  captain. 
One  of  the  conditions  of  oath  was  that  I  would  accept  such 
bounty,  pay,  rations  and  clothing  as  were  or  would  be  by 
law  provided  for  volunteers.  Yet  in  1864 1  had  to  skirmish 
around  pretty  lively  and  provide  the  ration  part  myself. 


16  THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

After  being  sworn  in  I  was  sent  into  a  room  adjoining 
and  put  on  my  first  uniform.  There  was  a  near-sighted, 
cross-eyed  fellow  in  this  room  who  had  charge  of  affairs. 
There  was  a  long  table  piled  with  clothing.  •  It  was  the 
worst  lot  of  shoddy  that  ever  came  from  a  factory.  At 
this  time  I  was  small,  even  for  my  age.  I  had  to  take  a 
pair  of  pants  that  were  many  sizes  too  large.  Then  we 
hunted  over  the  pile  of  pea-jackets  and  got  the  smallest 
one,  and  it  was  just  too  much  of  a  fit. 

Then  my  hat!  Oh,  such  a  hat!  It  was  black,  high 
crown,  about  a  four-inch  rim,  a  green  cord  around  it,  a 
brass  bugle  on  the  front,  and  it  had  a  large  fluffy  black 
feather  plume  from  the  band  up  and  angling  over  the 
crown. 

That  day  I  had  a  daguerreotype  picture  of  myself  taken, 
and  when  the  artist  showed  it  to  me  I  felt  so  big  that 
President  Lincoln's  overcoat  would  not  have  made  me  a 
pair  of  mittens. 

Shoes  came  next,  and  I  got  a  fit.  Then  came  a  knap- 
sack and  haversack.  The  knapsack  I  loaded  up  with 
two  suits  of  underclothes  and  a  fatigue  blouse.  Then  came 
a  pair  of  dog-hair  blankets;  and  when  I  strapped  the 
whole  outfit  on  my  back  I  must  have  looked  like  Atlas 
carrying  the  world. 

I  now  started  for  home  on  a  three  days'  leave  of  absence. 
That  evening  I  boldly  walked  into  the  kitchen  where  my 
mother  was  preparing  the  evening  meal.  At  sight  of  me 
she  threw  up  both  of  her  hands,  exclaiming  ''Great  Csesar!" 

I  said,  "No  mother,  I  am  neither  Csesar  nor  Brutus, 
but  I  am  a  Union  soldier." 

One  could  have  taken  two  seamless  grain  sacks,  cut  the 
bottom  out  and  run  a  gee-string  through  and  made  equally 
as  good-fitting  a  pair  of  pants  as  I  had  on. 


STORY   OF  THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  17 

On  returning  to  Lawrence  I  found  the  recruiting  camp 
up  the  river  a  little  way  from  town.  It  was  near  the 
Kansas  river  and  close  by  a  big  spring  that  I  remembered 
of  being  at  many  times  during  the  summer  of  1857.  After 
staying  at  this  camp  a  few  days  we  marched  south  to  a 
block-house  on  the  Osage  river,  twelve  miles  north  of  Fort 
Scott,  Kansas.  This  block-house  was  called  at  the  time 
Fort  Lincoln.  From  there  we  marched  back  to  Paola, 
where  my  regiment  was  mustered  into  the  service;  and  a 
few  days  afterward  the  wounded  from  the  Prairie  Grove 
battle  passed  through  Paola  to  the  Leavenworth  hospital. 

My  regiment  was  formed  out  along  the  border  by  com- 
panies and  battalions,  my  company  going  to  Shawnee- 
town  after  it  had  been  raided  and  sacked. 

In  February  we  were  in  Fort  Scott.  In  April  I  was  put 
on  detached  duty;  was  assigned  to  C  Company,  Third 
Wisconsin  Cavalry,  with  headquarters  on  the  Dry  wood,  in 
Jasper  county,  Mo.,  and  for  months  we  rode  the  border 
from  Balltown  to  Spring  river,  being  in  the  native  heath  of 
Pony  Hill,  and  finally  ending  his  career.  Lexington's  men 
suffered  in  proportion  to  the  killings  and  robberies  they 
committed,  and  Cy  Grordon  made  himself  scarce. 

I  was  back  to  my  company  in  August  and  at  3  a.  m., 
October  7th,  1863.  Henry  Bausman,  our  drummer  boy, 
beat  the  long  roll  so  vigorously  that  we  were  in  line,  some 
in  stocking-feet,  some  bareheaded.  We  were  ordered  to 
get  three  days'  rations,  hard-tack  and  bacon,  and  hurry 
to  Baxter  Springs,  where,  the  day  before,  Quant  rill  with 
four  hundred  bushwhackers  had  surprised  and  deceived 
the  little  garrison  and  killed  65  soldiers  and  seven  com- 
missioned officers — my  brother  included  in  the  list. 

By  daybreak  we  were  en  route  for  Baxter  Springs,  riding 
in  Government  wagons  drawn  by  six-mule  teams.     We 


18  THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

arrived  there  long  after  night,  and  learned  that  sixty-five 
bodies  had  been  buried  in  one  trench,  and  the  bodies  of 
the  commissioned  officers  we  had  not  met  on  om*  road 
down  were  buried  separately  about  fifty  feet  from  the 
trench,  under  some  blackjack  trees.  Henry,  a  colored 
soldier,  who  had  been  my  brother's  cook  and  camp-keeper, 
piloted  me  out  to  my  brother's  grave.  My  heart  for  a 
time  seemed  like  stone;  not  a  tear,  not  a  sigh,  but  as  I 
stood  looking  down  at  that  mound  of  fresh  earth  I  realized 
that  ''war  is  heh"  long  before  I  ever  heard  that  General 
Sherman  said  it  was. 

My  brother  was  in  temporary  command  at  Baxter 
Springs  at  the  time  he  was  killed,  and  the  circumstances  of 
his  killing  were  among  the  most  cowardly,  brutal,  and 
treacherous  incidents  in  the  annals  of  a  so-called  civilized 
warfare.  The  little  garrison  was  composed  of  the  most  of 
C  Company  and  a  portion  of  L  Company  of  the  Third  Wis- 
consin cavalry  and  A  Company  of  the  First  regiment  of 
negro  troops  that  were  raised  west  of  the  Missouri  river. 

Baxter  was  established  as  a  way  or  change  station  be- 
tween Fort  Scott,  Kansas,  and  Fort  Gibson,  I.  T.  It  Ues 
in  the  extreme  southeast  part  of  Kansas.  Here  the  dis- 
patch bearers  and  messenger  riders  changed  horses  between 
points. 

My  brother  had  certain  trees  blazed  on  the  brush  and 
timbered  side  of  the  garrison,  and  stakes  set  with  little 
flags  on  them  on  the  prairie  side,  which  took  in  about  eight 
or  ten  acres  of  ground.  He  had  issued  an  order  against 
firing  guns  inside  these  lines  unless  so  ordered.  About 
the  time  this  order  was  made,  a  Union  lady  came  in  from 
the  Shoal  creek  country  and  told  my  brother  that  Quan- 
trill  was  gathering  his  guerrillas  together  in  the  hills  of 
southern  Jasper  for  the  purpose  of  striking  another  hard 


STORY  OF  THE  SOUTHWEST  PLAINS.  19 

blow.  This  time  he  would  capture  General  Blunt  and 
destroy  his  escort  while  the  General  was  en  route  from 
Fort  Scott,  Kansas,  to  Fort  Smith,  Arkansas,  where  he  was 
to  make  his  headquarters.  This  lady  said  that  it  was 
Quant  rill's  intention  to  first  capture  Baxter  Springs  the 
day  Blunt  would  arrive.  They  were  to  ^et  possession  of 
Baxter  before  Blunt  arrived  and  attend  to  him  when  he 
came. 

My  brother  at  once  sent  a  message  to  Fort  Scott,  notify- 
ing the  authorities  of  the  intent.  He  also  sent  a  messenger 
to  Carthage,  Mo.,  asking  for  immediate  reinforcements. 
The  messenger  that  started  to  Scott  was  never  seen  or 
heard  from,  and  it  is  only  fair  to  presume  that  he  was  cap- 
tured and  taken  to  some  lonely  spot  and  killed.  The 
messenger  to  Carthage  got  through,  but  the  next  day 
after  my  brother  was  killed  the  word  came  back,  "No 
troops  to  spare." 

The  fates  were  at  work.  The  very  day  this  horrible 
massacre  occurred  the  Neosho  river  was  nearly  out  of  its 
banks  on  account  of  unusually  heavy  rains  to  the  west. 
Johnny  Fry,  a  messenger  rider,  on  his  way  from  Fort  Gib- 
son to  Fort  Scott  with  an  important  message,  was  being 
pursued  by  Cy  Gordon  and  five  Creek  Indians.  He  was 
some  300  yards  in  advance  of  them  when  he  came  to  the 
river,  and  as  his  horse  was  taking  him  ashore  on  the  north 
side  of  the  stream  Gordon  and  his  Creeks  had  dismounted 
and  were  shooting  at  him  from  the  south  bank.  He  came 
on  into  Baxter  unharmed,  related  the  incident  to  my 
brother  and  several  others,  and  said  in  closing  that  he  had 
gotten  his  pistols  wet  when  he  swam  the  river,  and  wanted 
to  shoot  them  empty,  clean  and  reload  them,  before  going 
on  to  Fort  Scott.  My  brother  said:  ''All  right,  Johnny; 
after  dinner  we  will  go  outside  the  lines  and  fire  them  off. 


20  THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

We  will  shoot  at  a  mark;  I'll  take  my  own  along,  for  I 
want  to  clean  them  up  too." 

They  took  a  Third  Wisconsin  man  along  to  tally.  Blunt 
was  not  expected  for  several  days,  according  to  the  in- 
formation this  little  garrison  had  received. 

The  Third  Wisconsin  man  stuck  the  five-spot  of  dia- 
monds on  a  black  oak  troe  just  outside  the  lines  and  nearly 
in  sight  of  the  water  at  the  Spring  river  ford.  The  ground 
was  paced  off  and  the  firing  at  target  had  proceeded  until 
my  brother  had  one  shot  left,  and  Johnny  two,  when  like 
a  clap  of  thunder  from  a  clear  sky  the  guerrillas  rode  up 
out  of  the  Spring  river  ford  carrying  our  flag  and  dressed 
in  our  uniforms,  stripped  from  the  bodies  of  Union  soldiers 
they  had  killed  along  the  border.  By  this  time  they  were 
sixty  paces  from  the  three  men  and  moving  on  in  column 
of  fours.  The  tally  man,  standing  where  he  had  a  view  of 
the  whole  line,  noticed  that  only  about  half  of  them  were 
dressed  in  our  uniform,  and  Johnny  Frey's  suspicions  be- 
ing aroused  he  said  '^Run,  boys,  for  your  Hves;  they  are 
guerrillas!"  ''No,"  said  my  brother,  ''that's  the  militia 
from  Carthage." 

But  the  Third  Wisconsin  man  took  his  pistol  from  its 
scabbard  and  threw  it  on  the  ground  in  front  of  him  and 
begged  for  his  life,  and  they  spared  it.  He  told  us  after- 
ward that  they  seemed  to  ignore  his  presence ;  but  halted, 
fired  a  left-oblique  volley  of  about  twenty  shots  at  Johnny 
and  my  brother.  The  shots  brought  both  men  to  the 
ground.  Johnny  rose  on  his  knees  with  both  hands  gripped 
to  his  pistol,  and  fired.  As  he  did  so  he  fell  back,  dead. 
My  brother,  getting  to  his  feet,  fired  his  last  shot,  when  he 
too  fell  forward  on  his  face. 

About  fifty  of  these  devils  incarnate  clustered  around 
their  bodies.     Turning  my  brother  over  face  upwards  one 


STORY  OF  THE  SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  21 

of  them  called  to  another  that  was  farther  back  in  the  line, 
saying,  ''Come  here,  Storey!  Here  is  your  man,  by  God! 
We've  got  him."  This  fellow  came  up,  dismounted,  and 
drawing  a  heavy  bowie-knife  whacked  my  brother  a  blow 
over  the  front  part  of  the  skull,  cutting  a  gash  about  five 
inches  long. 

The  Third  Wisconsin  man  had  been  herded  inside  this 
group  around  these  quivering  bodies.  He  saw  them  rifle 
Johnny's  pockets  a,nd  take  my  brother's  uniform ;  then  he 
was  ordered  to  go  to  the  rear  and  mount  one  of  the  extra 
horses. 

Their  firing  had  alarmed  the  camp,  and  as  they  charged 
up  along  the  northern  side  of  it  they  were  met  with  a  spir- 
ited irregular  fire  from  the  darkies,  and  as  they  swung 
around  the  western  angle  the  Third  Wisconsin  boys  took 
a  turn  at  them  and  they  passed  on  out  of  range  on  the  open 
prairie  and  marched  up  the  trail,  our  flag  at  the  head  of 
column  in  fours  dressed  as  Union  soldiers.  Is  it  any  won- 
der that  Blunt's  advance  thought  they  were  the  troops 
from  Baxter  coming  out  to  give  them  a  fraternal  reception? 

Blunt  had  nooned  that  day  at  Brushy,  four  miles  from 
Baxter,  and  coming  down  the  trail  riding  in  an  ambulance 
and  his  big  gray  horse  tied  behind  barebacked,  everybody 
unsuspecting,  the  Third  Wisconsin  band  getting  ready  to 
play  a  patriotic  tune,  nearly  all  of  the  men  that  Blunt 
had  being  raw  recruits,  not  knowing  nor  thinking  of  harm. 
Is  it  any  wonder,  I  repeat,  that  Quantrill  made  the  shambles 
he  did  in  such  an  amazing  short  time?  And  does  it  not 
seem  strange  that  Jack  Splain  would  be  lying  on  the  ground 
badly  wounded  and  Quantrill  placing  a  pistol  to  his  face 
telling  him  that  when  he  got  to  hell  he  should  tell  them 
that  Quantrell  was  the  last  man  he  saw,  and  fired  in  his 
face,  and  that  Splain  lived  to  tell  it  at  Grand  Army  reun- 


22  THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

ions?  Was  she  not  a  teroine  when  Mrs.  McNary  picked 
up  her  dead  husband's  gun  that  day  and  killed  a  bush- 
whacker at  Baxter  Springs? 

Gen.  Blunt 's  escort  was  demorahzed  ;•  but  he  mounted 
his  horse  and  with  ten  men  fairly  cut  his  way  through  the 
guerrillas  and  got  safely  to  the  garrison,  where  he  estab- 
lished his  headquarters  in  my  brother's  tent.  When  my 
brother's  body  was  brought  in  for  burial  it  was  found  he 
had  received  twenty-seven  bullets  in  his  body.  He  had 
gained  a  notoriety  along  the  border,  Among  other  things 
he  had  killed  a  guerrilla  near  Westport  who  carried  a 
dead  list,  and  among  the  names  not  yet  crossed  out  were 
those  of  Captain  Hoyt,  Chief  of  the  Red  Legs;  John 
Jones,  sheriff  of  Johnson  county,  Kansas;  Doctor  Beech, 
of  Olathe,  Kansas ;  and  R.  E.  Cook,  my  brother.  Unfor- 
tunately, this  list  was  published  at  the  time,  together  with 
the  details  of  the  fight  between  the  Border  Ruffians  and 
my  brother.  So  he  was  a  particular  mark  for  vengeance 
and  revenge.  When  it  was  also  known  that  he  was  an 
officer  of  ^'nigger"  troops,  and  being  recognized  when  the 
guerrillas  rode  onto  them,  they  wreaked  their  vengeance 
with  revenge. 

As  I  sat  by  the  camp-fire  listening  to  the  story  of  the 
finding  of  the  body  of  that  brave,  generous,  kind-hearted 
and  loyal  boy,  it  was  then  that  my  pent-up  grief  came  home 
to  me.  Those  in  the  garrison  were  not  willing  to  take 
chances,  that  first  evening  after  the  attack,  to  look  on  the 
timbered  side  for  dead  or  wounded  friends.  So  the  next 
morning  a  strong  party  went  out;  they  found  Johnny's 
body  where  it  fell,  and  it  was  rigid.  And,  remarkable  to 
say,  my  brother's  body  was  not  yet  rigid.  He  was  found 
in  a  clump  of  hazel  brush  sixty  yards  from  where  he  had 
fallen.     And  the  mute  evidence  of  the  trails  he  had  made 


STORY   OF  THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  23 

through  the  blood-stained  grass,  to  where  he  was  found 
and  both  hands  with  broken  hazel  brush  gripped  in  them, 
seemed  to  indicate  to  those  who  found  the  body  that  Ufe 
had  not  been  extinct  until  near  morning.  Johnny  Fry 
had  six  wounds,  all  mortal.  But  when  the  soldiers  washed 
my  brother's  body  after  bringing  him  to  the  garrison, 
preparatory  to  dressing  him  for  burial,  they  found,  besides 
the  knife  wound,  twenty-seven  bullet  wounds. 

Reader,  would  you  call  that  warf  No;  it  was  murder j 
pure  and  simple. 

I  could  not  go  home  and  tell  this  story  to  my  dear,  little 
old  Irish  mother,  whose  God  was  the  Lord;  but  I  did,  if 
anything,  worse.  When  my  brother  was  killed  he  was 
wearing  a  soft  white  hat  which  fitted  his  head  rather 
tightly,  and  when  the  guerrilla  turned  him  face  upward 
and  called  to  Storey,  his  hat  was  still  on  and  nearly  in  the 
position  in  which  he  wore  it.  So  when  this  fiend  delivered 
the  knife-stroke,  he  cut  through  the  hat  a  gash  nearly  six 
inches  long,  running  from  near  the  center  of  the  crown 
diagonally  across  the  forehead  on  the  left  side. 

On  the  morning  of  the  10th  day  of  October,  I  was  called 
to  General  Blunt 's  tent,  where  he  informed  me  he  would  ' 
give  me  a  furlough  to  take  home  the  effects  of  my  brother. 
He  also  gave  me  an  order  on  the  quartermaster  at  Fort 
Scott  for  my  brother's  horse,  that  had  carried  the  first 
messenger  to  Scott  after  the  disaster. 

As  I  was  packing  up  the  things  I  wished  to  take  home, 
he  handed  me  a  package  of  papers  that  had  been  taken 
from  my  brother's  desk.  At  the  time,  I  had  the  hat 
alluded  to  in  my  hands  to  put  in  the  box  I  was  packing. 
He  noticed  the  hat,  and  said:    ''Let  me  see  that  hat." 

I  laid  it  in  his  hands  and  he  asked  me  why  I  wanted  to 
take  it.    I  said,  ''General,  the  man  that  struck  that  cruel 


24        .   THE  BOEDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

lick  is  named  Storey,  and  if  he  is  not  killed  in  this  war 
the  civil  law  will  hang  him  when  peace  is  restored.  And 
that  hat  will  be  a  good  witness,  and  I  may  want  it." 
^^Y-e-s,"  he  said  in  a  drawling  way;  ''that's  all  right." 
I  was  not  yet  eighteen  years  old,  and  did  not  really 
foresee  the  effect  it  would  have  on  my  mother.  When 
she  gazed  on  the  grewsome  sight  of  that  blood-stained 
and  gashed  hat,  she  stood  mutely  looking  for  a  moment ; 
then  placing  both  hands  over  her  heart  uttered  a  deep 
sigh  and  was  staggering  backwards,  when  I  caught  her  in 
my  arms  and  led  her  to  a  lounge  in  another  room.  She 
survived  the  ordeal  and  passed  on  in  1891  to  that  Beulah 
Land  she  loved  so  well  to  sing  about,  and  her  last  words 
were,  ''I  will  soon  be  drinking  at  the  fountain." 

It  has  been  said'that  all  is  fair  in  love  and  war ;  and  that 
the  end  justifies  the  means.  I  have  an  abiding  respect 
for  the  Confederate  soldier  who  did  his  duty  in  the  light 
in  which  he  saw  it  at  that  time.  Yes,  I  have  an  admir- 
ation for  him.  He  was  an  American,  and  did  he  not 
fight  on  with  a  dogged  perseverance  even  after  the  back- 
bone of  rebellion  broke  at  Gettysburg,  a  victim  of  a  hope- 
less and  mistaken  course,  staying  with  his  forlorn  hope 
to  the  end,  and  as  a  rule  accepting  the  results?  Yes; 
all  true  soldiers  have  a  profound  respect  for  the  enemy 
that  will  meet  him  in  the  open,  his  true  colors  and  garb 
in  evidence,  the  honest  telltale  of  who  and  what  he  is. 
This  is  not  only  true  in  a  military  sense,  but  it  is  true  in 
a  moral  and  political  sense.  But  fiends  incarnate,  who 
respect  neither  moral,  civil,  nor  military  law,  should  be 
hunted  like  cougars.  But,  be  it  said  to  the  credit  of  the 
Confederacy,  these  border  freebooters  had  no  legal  status. 
Such  was  the  position  of  Quantrill  and  his  followers.  Go 
to^  Aubrey,  Olathe,   Shawneetown,  Lawrence,  Centralia, 


STORY   OF  THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  25 

Mo.,  Rossville,  Ark.,  and  the  hundreds  of  lonely  ravines 
and  hollows  along  the  Missouri  border,  where  death  reaped 
a  greater  harvest  in  the  period  of  four  years  from  '61  to 
'65  by  murder  in  guerrilla  warfare  than  any  like  area 
since  time  began. 

The  first  camp-fires  of  the  slaveholders'  rebellion  were 
kindled  on  Kansas  soil,  five  years  before  P.  G.  T.  Beaure- 
gard fired  the  shot  on  Fort  Sumter  that  was  heard  around 
the  world,  and  saddened  every  home  in  our  land.  The 
horde  of  Border  Ruffins  that  had  bent  every  energy  from 
1856  and  1857  to  fasten  the  system  of  human  slavery  in 
Kansas  Territory  having  dismally  failed,  after  leaving  a 
trail  of  blood  and  carnage  behind  them,  "silently  folded 
their  tents"  and  recrossed  the  border.  But  when  actual 
hostilities  came  in  1861  on  a  national  scale,  the  spirit  of 
revenge  came  to  the  front  and  Kansas  must  suffer.  Men 
of  desperate  character  from  Kentucky,  Mississippi  and 
Louisiana  came  out,  and  up  to  join  the  Missourians  to 
help  them  even  up  with  Kansans  for  their  failure  to.  make 
Kansas  a  Slave  State. 

And  -what  a  field  for  operations!  At  that  time  the 
border  on  both  sides  of  the  line  was  sparsely  settled,  from 
Kansas  City  to  the  Indian  Territory  and  to  the  Arkansas 
line,  thus  affording  many  quiet  hiding-places  between 
depredations  committed. 

After  being  home  a  few  days  I  returned  to  Fort  Scott, 
to  learn  that  my  company  had  marched  to  Fort  Smith, 
Ark.  I  was  placed  in  a  stragglers'  camp  to  await  the  time 
that  Colonel  Tom  Moonlight  was  to  take  us  down  the 
western  border  of  Arkansas  to  Fort  Smith.  He  mounted 
us  on  a  fresh  supply  of  horses  that  were  going  down  to  fill 
vacancies.  There  were  nearly  one  hundred  of  us,  ar- 
tillerymen, cavalrymen  and  infantrymen,  going  to  join 


26  THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

our  respective  commands.  Moonlight  was  given  a  free 
lance.  The  only  condition  was  to  keep  on  and  near  the 
left  flank  of  a  large  transportation  train  bound  for  Fort 
Smith,  Ark.  It  is  needless  to  say  that  on  the  trip  down 
the  border  and  over  the  Boston  Mountains  several  old 
scores  were  evened  up.  We  arrived  at  Fort  Smith  in  late 
December,  and  on  January  1,  1864,  my  regiment  was  re- 
united, except  H  Company,  and  kept  so  until  the  close  of 
the  war.  Its  history  is  briefly  written  in  marches,  counter- 
marches, foraging  expeditions,  the  Shreveport  campaign 
and  fighting  guerrillas — all  this  was  the  order  of  the  times. 

We  were  mustered  out  of  service  at  Little  Rock,  Ark., 
Jime  30th,  1865,  and  finally  discharged,  paid  off,  and 
disbanded  at  Lawrence,  Kansas,  July  20th. 

I  was  not  twenty  years  old,  without  a  scar  or  scratch,  but 
brought  from  cypress  and  alligator  swamps  of  the  south 
a  case  of  malarial  fever  that  tenaciously  stayed  in  my 
system  for  four  months.  I  believe  I  could  make  a  safe 
two-to-one  bet  that  no  mortal  on  earth  ever  drank  as  much 
boneset  tea  during  that  time  as  I  did.  My  mother,  backed 
by  every  old  lady  in  the  neighborhood,  insisted  that  it 
was  the  only  remedy  to  get  the  bile  off  my  stomach  and 
the  ague  out  of  my  system. 


CHAPTER  II. 

Early  Settlements  of  Southeast  Kansas. — Texas  Cattle  Fever  Trou- 
ble.— The  Osage  Indians  and  Firewater. — Poor  Mrs.  Bennett. — 
How  Terwilliger's  Cattle  Stampeded. — Why  the  Curtises  Moved 
On. — ^The  Odens  Murder  Parker. — Parker  Was  Avenged. — Jane 
Heaton  and  Her  Smith  &  Wesson  Revolver. — What  Became  of  the 
Benders. 

In  1867  I  went  to  Labette  county,  and  located  on  160 
acres  of  land  three  miles  from  where  the  notorious  Bender 
family  committed  their  horrible  murders  in  1873.  Shortly 
after  locating,  together  with  all  of  the  settlers  on  Timber 
Hill  creek,  I  got  mixed  up  in  the  Texas  cattle  fever  trouble 
that  broke  out  along  the  Indian  Territory  border. 

At  the  time  the  trouble  was  on  an  old  man  and  his  son 
who  was  about  35  years  old  had  taken  up  a  claim  on  Big 
Hill  creek  down  near  the  Montgomery  county  line,  and  had 
established  a  trading-post  and  were  selling  whisky  to  the 
Osage  Indians,  who  had  recently  ceded  their  lands  and 
were  preparing  to  move  south  and  west  to  their  present 
reserve. 

Milt  Adams,  James  Bennett  and  myself  were  delegated 
to  wait  on  the  old  man  Curtis  and  son  to  tell  them  to  quit 
selling  liquor  to  the  Osage  Indians.  They  both  denied 
ever  selling  them  any  at  all.  But  we  had  the  indisputable 
evidence  from  the  best  of  sources  that  they  had.  I  said : 
"Look  here,  you  see  that  cabin  down  there  on  the  prairie? 
That  is  the  extreme  frontier  cabin  that  a  white  man  lives 
in  the  border.  That's  John  Bennett's  home.  And  that 
was  his  wife,  who,  day  before  yesterday,  was  compelled 
to  stand  over  a  hot  cook  stove,  in  a  little  cluttered  up 

(27) 


28  THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

room,  and  cook  meat  and  bake  nearly  half  a  sack  of  flour 
into  biscuits  for  a  party  of  drunken  Osage  Indians  that 
got  their  whisky  here  and  went  straight  from  here  to 
Bennett's.  You  both  know  that  in  point  of  personal 
valor  when  sober  the  Osage  is  a  coward,  and  cowards  have 
to  get  drunk  to  be  dangerous.  Of  course  the  worst  injury 
Mrs.  Bennett  received  was  fright,  and  now  that  poor 
woman  is  prostrate  and  the  Timber  and  Big  Hill  settle- 
ments will  hold  you  fellows  responsible  for  it." 

A  man  by  the  name  of  Terwilliger  had  a  large  corral  on 
Cherry  creek  near  its  junction  with  the  Nipa walla,  or 
Drum  creek,  and  on  the  western  border  of  our  settlement. 
He  was  grazing  about  600  head  of  long-horned  Texas 
cattle.  He  had  repeatedly  been  requested  to  move  his 
cattle  farther  west,  beyond  the  danger-Une,  but  paid  no 
heed  to  the  wish  of  the  settlers.  The  day  that  Mr.  Curtis 
and  son  were  advised  'Ho  seek  other  parts,"  which  they  did, 
that  same  night,  some  one  rode  along  the  east  side  of 
Terwilliger's  corral,  where  600  steers  were  lying  down 
chewing  their  cuds,  and  threw  a  big  cat  over  the  fence 
plump  on  a  steer. 

Ugh-ee!  Woof!  and  the  ground  fairly  trembled.  The 
stampede  was  on.  The  eight-rail  staked  and  double- 
ridered  fence  was  no  barrier.  Some  of  the  rails  were  car- 
ried 200  feet  from  the  fence.  And  most  of  the  cattle  were 
twenty-five  miles  southwest  by  noon  the  next  day  when 
their  herders  caught  up  with  them. 

It  was  suspected  that  the  son  of  a  Methodist  circuit 
rider  delivered  the  cat  to  the  steer,  his  father  having  sup- 
.phcated  the  Sunday  before,  'Hhat  we  might  be  spared 
from  the  dreadful  scourge  of  the  Texas  fever." 

This  fever  was  fatal  to  domestic  cattle,  but  did  not  seem 
to  affect  the  native  cattle  of  Texas  either  at  home  or  on 


STORY   OF   THE    SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  29 

the  drive  northward.  And  since  the  long-horned  breeds 
have  become  nearly  extinct,  by  crossing  and  recrossing 
of  breeds,  Texas  fever  is  scarcely  heard  of  now.  But  in 
early  times  in  southern  Kansas  eternal  vigilance  from 
July  to  the  first  killing  frost  was  the  price  of  milk.  Had 
the  settlers  not  been  vigilant  those  days  the  children  along 
the  border  would  have  cried  for  milk;  for  Kansas  had 
not  yet  made  any  dead-line  legislation  against  Texas  cat- 
tle. 

During  the  latter  part  of  the  winter  of  1869,  the  two 
Oden  brothers  killed  yoimg  Parker  over  a  claim  dispute. 
The  killing  took  place  at  the  house  on  the  disputed  claim 
near  the  mouth  of  Onion  creek,  on  the  west  side  of  the 
Verdigris  river,  in  Montgomery  county,  which  was  not  yet 
organized.  Osage  township,  the  one  I  lived  in  in  Labette 
county,  was  the  nearest  judicial  point  to  the  place  of  the 
killing.  A  mob  gathered  and  surrounded  the  Oden  house 
near  the  scene  of  the  murder,  as  it  afterwards  proved  to  be. 
The  mob's  purpose  was  to  give  the  Odens  a  trial,  with 
Judge  Lynch  on  the  bench.  But  when  inky  darkness 
came  on,  the  Odens  slipped  by  the  guards  and  went  to, 
and  surrendered  to  the  Justice  of  the  Peace,  Wm.  H. 
Carpenter,  of  Osage  township. 

I  was  township  constable  at  the  time.  Their  revolvers, 
four  in  number,  were  handed  to  me.  Subpoenas  were 
given  to  me  to  serve  on  witnesses  for  the  defense,  in  the 
neighborhood  where  the  deed  was  perpetrated.  I  depu- 
tized Henry  Waymire  to  take  charge  of  Bill  Oden  during 
my  absence;  also,  Mahlon  King,  the  son  of  a  Methodist 
minister,  to  go  with  me  to  Onion  creek  and  help  to  guard 
and  protect  Tom  Oden,  whom  we  took  with  us,  by  his 
own  and  also  by  his  brother's  request.  Tom  had  told  us, 
which  proved  to  be  true,  that  if  he  went  home  alone  he 


30  THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

might  be  killed;  that  his  wife  was  in  delicate  health,  and 
that  he  was  anxious  to  see  her  and  allay  her  fears  about 
him. 

We  left  the  residence  of  the  Justice  of  the  Peace  about 
four  in  the  afternoon.  It  was  twenty-five  miles  southwest 
to  where  we  were  to  go.  When  darkness  came  on  we  were 
on  a  treeless  prairie,  taking  a  course  for  a  trading-post 
near  the  mouth  of  Pumpkin  creek,  where  we  arrived 
about  ten  o'clock  at  night.  We  found  about  twenty-five 
men  who  had  congregated  there  before  we  reached  the 
post.  We  had  tied  a  large  woolen  scarf  around  the  neck, 
face,  and  head  of  our  volunteer  prisoner,  and  passed  him 
off  for  one  of  my  deputies.  One  of  the  witnesses  that  I 
was  to  subpoena  was  a  clerk  at  this  trading-post.  I  dis- 
mounted, went  inside,  and  handed  a  copy  of  the  subpoena 
to  the  clerk,  took  a  look  at  the  crowd,  and  was  starting 
out,  when  one  of  the  party  asked  me  where  the  Odens  were. 
My  reply  was,  '^  Under  a  strong  guard  at  Timber  Hill." 
I  was  then  asked  who  the  other  two  fellows  were  outside. 
I  answered,  ^'Two  deputy  constables."  I  was  then  asked 
to  take  a  glass  of  whisky.  I  replied  that  '^I  never  dr6,nk," 
which  was  the  second  misstatement  I  had  made  to  them. 
That  was  an  ominous-looking  crowd.  I  learned  afterwards 
that  my  first  lie  had  saved  Tom  Oden's  life  for  a  time,  and 
perhaps  Mahlon.  King's  and  my  own.  Had  the  prisoner 
not  given  himself  up  to  the  majesty  of  the  law?  And  was 
he  not  entitled  to  a  fair  trial  by  the  law?  And  would  it 
not  have  been  inexcusable  cowardice  had  we  not  defended 
him  to  the  last? 

After  leaving  the  traders  we  soon  came  to  the  Verdigris 
river,  which  was  more  than  half  bank-full,  and  was  sparsely 
settled  on  both  sides  to  the  Indian  Territory  line.  Near 
the  mouth  of  Onion  creek  we  left  our  horses  at  an  old 


STORY   OF   THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  31 

negro's  on  the  east  bank  of  the  river  and  called  up  Mr- 
Phelps,  who  lived  on  the  west  bank  eighty  rods  down  the 
river.  At  this  time  I  did  not  know  Mr.  Phelps  was  to  be 
the  main  witness  for  the  State  against  the  Odens.  Tom 
Oden  said  to  me,  when  we  arrived  opposite  Mr.  Phelps's, 
that  "Old  Phelps  keeps  a  skiff,  and  if  you  will  call  him 
up  we  can  cross  here;  then  it  is  only  a  mile  down  home, 
with  a  plain  road  all  the  way."  Then  he  added:  '^I'd 
rather  not  let  the  old  man  know  who  I  am  at  present,  and 
if  I  was  to  call  for  him  he  might  recognize  my  voice." 

I  hallooed  twice,  and  the  response  was,  '^What  is 
wanted?"  I  answered,  "There  are  three  of  us  here 
from  the  Timber  Hills,  and  we  wish  to  cross  the  river." 
He  remarked:  "It  is  now  nearly  midnight.  Can't  you 
go  to  the  house  a  little  way  down  the  river  and  wait  till 
morning?  Then  I'll  row  you  over."  I  told  him  our 
business  was  urgent,  and  that  "we  must  cross  at  once." 
He  said,  "all  right;   I'll  soon  be  there." 

When  Mr.  Phelps  came  down  the  bank  he  set  a  lantern 
in  the  bow  of  the  boat.  He  did  not  use  oars,  but  sat  in 
the  stem  and  paddled  across,  and,  as  he  neared  our  side, 
let  the  boat  drift  to  the  bank,  bow  up  stream. 

I  caught  the  gunwale  at  the  bow  and  said  to  the  pris- 
oner, who  yet  had  his  head  and  face  muffled,  "Rogers,  you 
get  in  first." 

Mr.  Phelps  said,  "I  can't  take  but  two  of  you  at  once." 

I  said,  "Mahlon,  you  get  in  here,  then,  near  the  bow." 

Mr.  Phelps  then  asked  me  to  hold  the  lantern  up  high, 
as  he  believed  he  could  make  the  other  bank  at  a  place  he 
wished  to  land  better  than  if  they  took  the  lantern  with 
them.  The  river  here  was  about  200  feet  wide,  and  very 
deep,  with  a  strong  current. 

The  boat  had  not  gotten  more  than  ten  feet  from  the 


32  THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

shore,  when  Oden  shifted  his  position  suddenly,  which 
tilted  the  boat  violently  and  threw  Mr.  Phelps  into  the 
river.  I  called  to  Mahlon  King  to  throw  me  the  bow-line, 
but  he  caught  up  the  Hne  and  leaped  towards  shore,  the 
bank  at  that  place  being  a  gradual  slope  towards  shore. 
He  made  a  few  strokes,  and  found  footing. 

Phelps,  being  in  the  stern  of  the  boat  when  tilted  out, 
was  farther  out  in  the  stream;  for  he  had  backed  out  to 
swing  the  bow  around;  and  when  pitched  out  he  was  in 
deep  and  pretty  swift  water.  There  were  some  long  over- 
hanging limbs  just  below  him,  which,  on  account  of  the 
swollen  condition  of  the  stream,  nearly  reached  the  water. 
Mr.  Phelps  was  calling  for  help. 

I  dropped  the  lantern,  jerked  both  six-shooters  out  of 
their  scabbards,  dropped  them  on  the  ground,  ran  down 
the  stream  about  thirty  feet,  plunged  in,  and  swam  out 
under  the  branches,  just  in  time  to  catch  Mr.  Phelps  by 
his  coat-sleeve  with  my  right  hand,  at  the  same  time 
holding  on  to  a  sweeping  limb  with  my  left  hand.  Soon 
we  were  ashore,  paddle  and  all,  for  he  had  hung  onto  it 
while  struggling  in  the  water. 

Here  we  were,  three  of  us,  wet  as  drowned  rats,  and  Tom 
Oden,  a  cold-blooded  murderer,  dry  as  a  powder-horn. 

I  had  not  the  slightest  suspicion  at  the  time  that  Oden 
tilted  the  boat  intentionally,  hoping  to  drown  Mr.  Phelps 
in  order  to  get  rid  of  a  damaging  witness  against  the  Odens. 
Replacing  my  pistols  in  their  holsters,  I  got  in  the  boat 
in  front  of  Mr.  Phelps  and  said,  ''Now,  Rogers,  get  in  and 
we  will  try  it  again,  and  be  very  careful  and  sit  still." 

Whether  he  thought,  by  my  getting  in  the  boat  in- 
stead of  King,  that  my  suspicions  were  aroused  and  that 
I  might  shoot  him  in  another  attempt  to  tilt  the  boat, 
I  am  unable  to  say. 


STORY  OF  THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  33 

« 

We  went  on  to  Oden's  cabin,  after7crossing,  and  before 
a  large  open  fireplace  dried  our  clothing,  and  got  a  few 
cat-naps  before  daylight.  All  the  time  and  throughout 
the  entire  day  until  we  started  back,  Tom  Oden  was  in 
an  adjoining  room  with  Mrs.  Oden. 

I  left  King  at  the  house,  and  rode  to  different  cabins 
that  forenoon,  hunting  for  the  witnesses  I  had  subpoenas 
for. 

I  could  not  help  but  notice  that  a  pall  had  fallen  over 
the  people.  Expressions  of  lament,  and  the  high  esteem 
in  which  Parker  had  been  held  by  the  entire  community, — 
this,  together  with  their  outspoken  condemnation,  from 
men  who  had  grown  to  manhood  on  the  frontier,  boded 
no  good  for  the  Odens.  And  I  felt  that  the  brand  of  Cain 
and  the  seal  of  death  had  been  placed  upon  them.        |r;^ 

When  I  came  back  to  the  Oden  cabin  I  got  King  and 
Oden  together  and  gave  them  my  impressions ;  and  Oden 
said,  "Yes,  there  are  men  in  this  country  that  want  us 
put  out  of  the  way."    Meaning  himself  and  his  brother. 

I  said,  "We  must  still  carry  out  our  deception  and  claim 
him  as  belonging  in  our  party."  Accordingly,  we  planned 
to  leave  for  Timber  Hill  at  four  o'clock.  I  walked  up 
to  Mr.  Phelps's,  and  got  him  to  set  me  back  across  the 
river. 

From  there  I  went  to  the  old  darky's  and  got  the  three 
horses,  and  went  down  the  river  a  mile  and  a  half  to  where 
the  other  two  men  had  crossed  the  river,  quite  at  the 
mouth  of  Onion  creek. 

After  moimting  I  said:  "Now,  boys,  you  two  keep  right 
up  the  river,  pass  the  old  darky's,  and  head  so  as  to  cross 
Pumpkin  creek  half-way  between  .the  Verdigris  and  the 
tradingrpost."  (Before  alluded  to.)  "I  will  strike  straight 
from  here  to  the  post." 


34  THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

Then  I  said  to  King,  '^  You  know  the  course  to  the  mouth 
of  Wild  Cat ;  keep  straight  on  it,  and  if  I  am  not  there  by 
the  time  you  are,  go  to  old  Mr.  McCarmac's  on  Big  Hill 
and  wait  for  me." 

They  started  up  the  river.  I  rode  out  of  the  timber  arid 
brush  that  skirted  the  river  and  headed  straight  across 
the  prairie  for  the  trading-post. 

When  a  little  less  than  a  mile  from  the  place  I  came  iii 
sight  of  it  and  noticed  a  large  crowd  of  men  outside  the 
store.  I  put  my  horse  in  a  lope,  galloped  up  to  them  and 
dismounted,  saying,  ''Hello,  boys." 

This  place  was  known  as  the  Gokey  Store.  One  of  the 
Gokeys  came  up  and  shook  hands  with  me  (we  were  quite 
well  acquainted),  and  he  said :  ''So  it  was  you  that  passed 
here  last  night.  I  just  got  in  to-day  with  a  load  of  freight 
and  learned  of  the  trouble  just  before  you  came  in  sight. 
Where  are  the  other  two  men?"  (He  had  been  told 
that  there  were  three  of  us  passed  his  place  the  night 
before.) 

I  told  him:  "I  do  not  know  where  they  are,  but  I  left 
them  opposite  the  mouth  of  Onion  creek." 

Gokey  took  me  to  one  side  and  informed  me  that  there 
were  about  twenty  of  the  crowd  had  provisioned  a  wagon 
and  were  going  to  Timber  Hill  to  be  at  the  preliminary 
hearing  of  the  Odens,  which  was  to  be  held  at  a  log  school- 
h6use  in  our  township,  about  one  and  one-fourth  miles 
south  of  the  justice's  residence. 

I  omitted  to  state  that  when  the  Odens  came  up  to  sur- 
render, they  brought  with  them  a  young  man  by  the  name 
of  Powell  as  witness  for  the  defense.  He  was  the  only 
eye-witness  to  the  killing  of  Parker,  beside  the  Odens. 

When  I  left  the  Gokey  store,  a  few  minutes  after  ar- 
riving there,  the  queer  feeling  of  impending  danger  and 


STORY   OF   THE    SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  35 

trouble  came  over  me,  and  that  serious  trouble  might  yet 
occur  while  those  two  prisoners  were  still  in  our  charge. 

Shortly  after  crossing  the  ford  at  the  north  and  south 
trail,  I  struck  off  across  a  trackless  prairie  for  the  mouth 
of  Wild  Cat  creek.  I  found  on  arriving  there  that  King 
and  Oden  had  crossed  and  were  only  a  short  distance 
ahead  of  me.  It  had  become  quite  dark  when  I  caught  up 
with  them.  I  said,  "Look  here,  Oden,  from  this  on  we 
will  have  to  use  the  utmost  caution  for  your  safety,  while 
you  are  in  my  charge.  So  when  we  get  to  Big  Hill  you 
two  fellows  take  the  hill  road  and  hurry  on  to  Carpenter's, 
and  I'U  keep  up  the  creek  bottom  trail  to  the  school- 
house  and  bring  some  more  deputies  with  me  to  Carpen- 
ter's;"  which  I  did. 

I  arrived  at  Carpenter's  after  midnight  with  seven  men 
whom  I  knew  could  be  depended  upon  in  any  emergency. 
There  were  now  at  Justice  Carpenter's  the  two  Odens, 
young  Powell,  their  witness,  eight  deputies  and  myself. 

The  time  for  the  trial  had  been  set  for  2  p.  m.  the  next 
day. 

When  we  arrived  at  the  school-house,  just  before  pro- 
ceedings commenced,  we  beheld  a  motley-looking  crowd. 
There  were  about  thirty  of  the  Timber  Hill  and  about 
fifteen  of  the  Big  Hill  settlers.  Added  to  these  were  the 
twenty-odd  men  from  near  the  scene  of  the  murder,  twenty- 
five  miles  away. 

There  were  men  dressed  in  the  garb  of  homespun  butter- 
nut, a  cloth  made  on  the  hand-looms  of  the  day.  Some 
were  yet  wearing  their  old  army  uniforms,  the  well-known 
sky-blue  trousers,  navy-blue  blouse,  with  brass  buttons 
with  the  American  eagle  upon  them,  the  blue  overcoat 
with  the  long  or  short  cape, — a  distinction  between  an 
ex-cavalryman  and  ex-infantryman.     Others  were  there 


36  THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

togged  out  in  the  then  up-to-date  store  clothes  and  '^biled" 
shirt.  The  horses  were  tied  to  wagons  in  front  of  the 
school-house,  on  the  open  prairie  and  to  trees  in  the  rear. 
Camp-fires  were  burning  in  different  places,  on  each  side 
and  behind  the  house. 

These  men  were  walking  arsenals.  Nearly  all  were 
each  carrying  two  six-shooters,  and  among  them  were 
rifles  of  many  different  patterns.  One  man  could  be  seen 
with  a  long-barreled  Hawkins  rifle,  while  his  neighbor 
carried  an  army  Enfield,  one  a  Springfield,  and  one  man 
an  old  brass-band  American  musket.  Some  had  the 
Gallagher,  some  the  Spencer,  and  some  carried  Sharp's 
carbine. 

Not  a  man  was  there  through  idle  curiosity,  but  either 
to  kill  the  Odens  or  see  fair  play.  It  was  learned  after- 
ward that  the  twenty  men  who  had  come  up  from  Gokey's 
had  held  a  council  just  before  they  came  to  the  school- 
house  and  decided  that,  in  killing  the  Odens  on  that  trip, 
they  might  have  to  kill  others  and  at  the  same  time  sacri- 
fice some  of  their  own  lives.  They  decided  not  to  use  one 
bit  of  testimony  they  had  for  the  State.  Simply  let  the 
whole  thing  go  by  default  and  bide  their  time. 

So  the  trial  came  off — or  rather,  the  hearing.  Bill 
Oden,  the  first  witness  after  young  Powell  had  given  his 
forced-by-threat  testimony,  stated  to  the  jury  that  it 
was  very  unfortunate  that  he  had  killed  the  young  man; 
that  he  only  intended  to  disable  him  so  that  he  could  do 
no  harm;  had  struck  with  the  handspike  a  harder  lick 
than  he  had  intended. 

Tom  Oden  said  that  .Parker  had  murder  in  him  when  he 
came  to  the  cabin;  that  he  tried  to  reason  with  him,  to 
no  purpose ;  that  had  his  brother  not  struck  him  with  the 
spike  before  he  shot  the  second  time, — he  claimed  Parker 


STORY  OF  THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  37 

had  shot  at  his  brother  once ;  but  Powell  afterward  stated 
that  was  false;  that  he,  Parker,  might  have  killed  all  of 
them.  And  all  this  time  not  a  protest ;  while  on  the  other 
hand,  the  Odens  had  made  out  a  clean  case  of  self-defense. 
The  jury  brought  in,  from  under  the  boughs  of  an  oak  tree 
out  in  the  wood,  a  verdict,  "Guilty  of  an  excusable  homi- 
cide." Thus  closed  one  of  the  greatest  farces  of  a  trial,  in 
jurisprudence. 

A  few  days  after  the  Odens  returned  home  they  were 
literally  bullet-riddled  by  a  determined  party  of  men, 
some  thirty  in  number,  starting  from  Chetopa  and  aug- 
menting until  Gokey's  trading-post  was  reached. 

Unintentionally,  in  the  killing  of  the  Odens,  young  Powell 
wa^shot  through  the  bowels.  He  then  swam  the  Verdi- 
gris river  and  escaped  them,  as  he  thought,  at  the  time. 
He  did  not  know  that  they  held  him  blameless  for  his  part 
in  the  Oden  affair;  but  the  mob,  if  such  it  could  be  called, 
had  heard  from  his  mother  his  own  story  to  her  of  the  kill- 
ing of  Parker,  which  was  cold-blooded  and  cruel ;  also,  the 
threat  that  if  he  did  not  tell  the  story  of  the  killing  as  they 
told  him  to,  they  would  kill  him  too.  They  told  him  that 
his  mother  was  a  poor  woman  who  could  not  well  spare 
him.  Young  Powell  was  possessed  of  very  ordinary  in- 
tellect, neither  self-assertive  nor  self-reliant,  and  just  such 
a  subject  as  Tom  Oden's  magnetism  could  control. 

Some  of  the  party  that  came  out  from  Chetopa,  not 
knowing  the  Odens  or  Powell  personally,  fired  on  Powell 
as  he  started  to  run,  when  they  came  up  to  where  he  and 
Bill  Oden  happened  to  be  as  they  were  together  at  the 
time.  But  as  soon  as  the  mistake  was  noticed  he  was 
allowed  to  get  away  and  the  same  party  rendered  him 
valuable  assistance  afterward. 

I  met  young  Powell  in  Chetopa,  early  in  1870.    He  told 


38  THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

me  that,  as  they  were  walking  over  the  prairie  toward 
home  the  next  day  after  the  trial,  Tom  Oden  told  him 
he  had  tried  to  drown  Phelps  the  night  he  tilted  the 
boat,  but  as  Phelps  had  not  come  forward  and  testified 
against  him  it  was  just  as  well  that  he  was  not  in  the  Ver- 
digris river  for  fish-bait. 

The  following  year,  Montgomery  county  was  organized, 
and  her  legal  machinery  was  set  and  ready  to  grind. 

That  summer,  a  man  by  the  name  of  Sam  Heaton  dropped 
into  our  neighborhood;  went  just  over  the  line  and  took 
up  a  claim  that  the  present  site  of  Cherry  vale  is  on.  Leav- 
ing his  wife,  household  goods  and  some  lumber  on  the  claim, 
Heaton,  with  four  yoke  of  oxen  and  a  large  wagon,  started 
to  a  saw-mill  near  Humboldt,  about  four  days'  journey,  for 
more  lumber.  During  his  absence  the  covetous  eye  of  a 
man  named  Soaper  fell  on  the  claim,  and  he  ordered  Mrs. 
Heaton  to  move  off  the  land,  stating  to  her  that  he  was  the 
first  settler  on  it,  and  that  his  building  material  was  on  the 
ground  near  the  southwest  comer.     Mrs.  H.  did  not  move. 

The  next  day  Soaper  and  a  party  of  several  men  came 
and  moved  everything  they  had  there  at  the  time,  except 
the  tent  she  was  in  and  what  it  contained,  including  her- 
self, just  over  the  line  onto  the  next  claim  north.  Mrs. 
Heaton  stood  in  the  door  of  her  tent  with  a  Smith  &  Wesson 
revolver  in  her  hand,  and  refused  to  budge. 

The  men  rode  away,  telling  her  they  would  be  back  in 
the  morning  and  move  her. 

She  mounted  her  pony  that  night  and  rode  to  Carpen- 
ter's, and  stated  her  case.  Carpenter  came  to  where  I  was 
at  work,  on  my  own  place,  the  next  morning,  and  informed 
me  what  had  happened.  We  soon  gathered  ten  settlers 
together,  mounted  and  galloped  across  that  six  miles  of 
virgin  prairie,  laughing  and  joking  like  a  lot  of  school- 


STORY   OF  THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  39 

boys  out  for  a  lark,  Mrs.  Heaton  riding  along  with  us  in 
the  lead,  her  Smith  &  Wesson  hanging  to  its  belt  around 
her  waist. 

In  point  of  real  value,  for  permanent  home-making,  we, 
perhaps,  had  crossed  a  dozen  as  good  or  better  claims 
that  could  be  had  for  the  taking;  for  they  were  imoccu- 
pied  portions  of  the  public  domain.  But  Heaton  had  se- 
lected the  particular  claim  in  question  and  ''squatters' 
rights''  was  the  slogan  of  the  times.  The  moral  law  of 
every  frontier  settlement  is  held  inviolate  and  will  brook  no 
interference.  Besides,  custom  made  propriety.  And  it 
was  customary  for  a  would-be  settler  to  take  any  unoccu- 
pied piece  of  the  public  domain,  to  the  extent  of  one  hun- 
dred and  sixty  acres,  that  he  wanted.  Heaton  had  taken 
his  claim  in  due  form ;  for  the  day  he  located  it  I  was  with 
him.  His  headquarters  were  at  my  house,  where  he  and 
his  wife  were  camped  while  he  was  looking  the  country 
over  for  a  home. 

Heaton  and  myself  were  at  every  comer  of  the  160  that 
day.  We  were  both  riding  horses  fully  sixteen  hands 
high.  The  grass  was  not  over  eighteen  inches  high;  the 
ground  was  fairly  level;  the  tract  was  not  cut  up  with 
ravines  or  draws.  We  both  had  excellent  eyesight;  there 
was  not  at  that  time  a  wagon-trail  on  it.  Soaper  nor  any- 
one else  had  a  vestige  of  lumber  on  the  place  the  day  he 
said  he  had.  He  simply  lied,  as  his  own  conscience  com- 
pelled him  to  afterward  admit,  after  he  had  been  the  means 
of  bringing  two  communities  to  the  verge  of  a  feud  with 
bloodshed. 

We  all  galloped  to  the  tent,  dismounted,  and  carried  all 
the  things  back  onto  the  claim  and  piled  them  up  neatly 
by  the  tent.  Then  three  of  the  men  fell  to  and  helped 
Mrs.  Heaton  get  a  mid-forenoon  meal,  while  the  rest  of 


40  THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

US  rode  diagonally  across  the  claim  to  where  Soaper  had 
his  lumber.  We  found  thirty-two  boards,  one  inch  thick, 
one  foot  wide  and  twelve  feet  long,  of  native  lumber,  from 
a  sawmill  over  on  the  Neosho  river,  twenty-eight  miles 
away.  We  wrote  out  a  trespass  notice,  fastened  it  to  a 
board,  and  returned  to  the  tent,  where  shortly  an  early 
dinner  was  announced. 

On  our  way  down,  in  crossing  a  prong  of  Cherry  creek, 
a  two-year-old  spike  buck  white-tail  deer  jumped  up,  not 
more  than  thirty  steps  in  front  of  us.  John  Oliphant 
whipped  out  one  of  his  six-shooters  and  placed  a  ball  in 
the  back  of  its  head  where  the  neck  joined  on.  It  was 
quick  action.  He  claimed  he  shot  more  at  random  than 
with  deliberation.  But  it  got  the  deer.  We  drew  the 
carcass  and  Milt  Adamson  carried  the  deer  in  front  of  him 
to  the  tent. 

While  we  were  eating  and  had  nearly  finished  our  meal 
of  fried  venison,  corn-bread,  boiled  potatoes  and  browned 
gravy,  Mrs.  Heat  on  announced  that  "horsemen  were  ap- 
proaching from  the  south."  We  all  arose  from  the  im- 
provised table,  stirred  around,  gathered  up  our  horses 
that  were  grazing  around  the  tent,  and  awaited  develop- 
ments. There  were  four  of  them.  They  rode  quite  up  to 
us,  when  Soaper  said: 

"How  do  you  do,  men?" 

"Fine,  fi-fi-fine,"  said  Ike  Vancel,  who  had  a  slight  im- 
pediment in  his  speech.  "We  j-j-jist  had  a  belly-full  of 
d-d-deer  meat." 

This  seemed  to  put  both  parties,  for  the  time,  in  a  good 
humor.  Vancel  was  an  acknowledged  wit,  was  a  polite 
and  courteous  gentleman,  a  man  of  sound  judgment,  and 
one  who  liked  to  see  fair  play. 

Soaper  was  the  next  to  speak : 


STORY   OF  THE    SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  41 

"I  seen  you  men  here,  and  thought,  me  and  these  friends 
of  mine,  that  we  would  come  over  and  tell  you  that  / 
took  this  claim,  and  hauled  lumber  onto  it  four  days  be- 
fore this  other  party  did." 

Carpenter  said : 

"I  don't  know  anything  about  that  part  of  it,  but  we, 
that  are  here,  all  do  know  that  it  was  a  dirty,  cowardly 
deed  for  you  and  your  gang  to  come  here  and  hector  and 
threaten  just  one  lone  woman  that  only  weighs  eighty-nine 
poimds.  You  fellows  make  yourselves  scarce,  and  if  this 
woman  is  molested  again  during  her  husband's  absence 
there  will  not  be  enough  left  of  you,  Soaper,  to  make  soap- 
grease." 

They  rode  away,  Soaper  saying:  "We'll  settle  this  in 
the  courts."  Two  weeks  later  we  were  all  arrested  at  our 
homes,  charged  with  "committing  a  breach  against  the 
peace  and  dignity  of  Montgomery  county,  Kansas."  We 
were  all  rounded  up  at  Justice  Carpenter's  house,  having 
been  served  with  warrants,  one  at  a  time,  by  one  lone  half- 
Swede  Constable.  Any  one  of  us  could  have  resisted 
him  with  impunity,  so  far  as  he  was  concerned.  But  the 
"process"   was  enough.    We  were  law-abiding  citizens. 

Just  as  the  last  prisoner  had  arrived  at  Carpenter's, 
a  lone  horseman  was  seen  approaching  from  the  north- 
east. Our  course  to  where  we  were  going  lay  to  the  south- 
west. We  waited  for  this  horseman  to  come  up  to  where 
we  were,  regardless  of  the  protests  of  the  constable,  who 
insisted  that  "our  trial  was  set  for  three  o'clock  that 
afternoon;  that  it  was  about  ten  miles  to  where  we  were 
to  go,  and  we  had  no  time  to  lose." 

When  the  rider  came  up  he  proved  to  be  a  lawyer  and 
a  recent  arrival  from  the  east,  hunting  for  a  place  to  hang 


42  THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

out  a  shingle.     We  had  a  short  talk  with  him,  and  informed 
him  of  the  cause  of  the  gathering,  whereupon  he  said : 

'^Go  ahead,  boys.     Ill  follow  up  and  rob  the  dead." 

This  man  was  Bishop  W.  Perkins,  afterward  a  member 
of  Congress. 

When  we  arrived  at  the  place  of  trial,  we  found  there  a 
man  by  the  name  of  Hartshorn,  a  lawyer,  recently  from 
Woodson  county,  who  was  to  be  the  prosecuting  attorney 
in  the  case.  We  were  all  a  happy-go-lucky  lot  of  prison- 
ers; and  when  Hartshorn  arose  with  a  serious  look  on  his 
countenance,  read  the  complaint,  and  had  expatiated  on 
the  gravity  of  the  offense,  we  all  arose  and  gave  him  three 
cheers. 

'^  Bully  for  Hartshorn,"  said  Ike  Vancel. 

The  ridiculousness  of  the  whole  thing  had  appealed  to 
the  funny  side  of  our  natures.  We  called  him  ^'Old  Es- 
sence of  Ammonia,"  and  yelled  to  him  to  '^Give  us  another 
smell." 

On  the  way  down  to  the  place,  Perkins  had  volunteered 
to  defend  us.  He  now  pitched  in  and  handled  a  vocabu- 
lary of  ^  words  that  took  us  all  by  surprise.  He  juggled 
words  and  phrases  in  such  rapid  succession  that  he  com- 
pletely spellbound  his  hearers.  He  wound  up  by  paint- 
ing a  word  picture  of  frail  little  Mrs.  Heaton,  alone  on  a 
desolate  prairie,  about  to  be  devoured  by  human  wolves. 
When  he  closed,  Vancel  said:  ^^I  m-m-move  that  we  ad- 
journ," which  we  did,  by  getting  on  our  horses  and  riding 
home. 

f"  Thus  ended  the  second  "legal  farce"  I  had  seen  during 
the  early  settlement  of  southeastern  Kansas. 

I  was  in  Denison,  Texas,  when  the  news  of  the  Bender 
murders  was  heralded  throughout  the  land,  and  that  one 


STORY   OF  THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  43 

of  my  old  neighbors  was  in  jail  at  Oswego,  under  sus- 
picion of  being  implicated  in  those  crimes.  He  was  the 
only  man  in  the  neighborhood  with  whom  I  had  had  any 
personal  trouble,  and  that  was  caused  by  his  hogs  and  my 
fence, — his  hogs  not  being  allowed  to  run  at  large  by  law, 
and  my  fence  not  being  hog-tight.  And  over  that  diffi- 
culty we  had  drifted  apart,  and  seemed  to  cultivate  a 
dislike  for  each  other. 

He  was  a  Methodist  preacher,  of  the  old  Peter  Cart- 
wright  school ;  but  had  an  inordinate  love  for  liquor,  and, 
periodically,  he  would  get  "as  full  as  a  goose,"  and  about 
as  silly.  When  sobering  up  he  would  be  struck  with  the 
remorse  of  a  guilty  conscience,  for  the  sin  he  had  com- 
mitted and  the  example  he  had  set  before  the  people.  He 
was  judged  by  his  neighbors  while  in  these  melancholy 
moods,  as  being  insincere,  hypocritical  and  mysteriously 
secretive.  Not  aU  of  us,  for  there  were  those  of  us  who 
believed  the  old  gentleman  was  conscientious  in  his  religious 
preachings  and  teachings. 

When  I  read  the  news  of  his  arrest,  I  hastened  to  his 
relief,  firmly  believing  in  his  innocence.  And  here  the 
Golden  Rule  impressed  itself  upon  my  mind  more  than  it 
ever  did  before.  I  believed  that  Parson  King  was  as 
innocent  of  the  crime  as  myself;  but  before  I  reached 
Oswego  he  had  been  vindicated  and  released  from  custody. 

I  went  up  into  my  old  neighborhood  where  I  had  been 
one  of  the  first  settlers  and  had  helped  to  build  the  first 
hewed  log  house  that  was  built  on  the  prairies  of  Labette 
coiinty.  A  blight  had  been  cast  on  the  entire  community. 
Not  two  miles  from  where  I  helped  to  build  the  house, 
mentioned  above,  I  gazed  on  the  open  graves  of  the  Ben- 
der's victims.  Personally,  I  think  I  was  better  known, 
and  knew  that  people  better  in  the  first  settlement  of 


44  THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

western  Labette,  eastern  Montgomery,  and  southern  Wood- 
son, than  any  other  man. 

While  John  Harness,  of  Ladore,  was  suspected  of  being 
an  accomphce  of  the  crime,  he  undoubtedly  was  as  inno- 
cent as  his  accusers  were.  'Twas  the  same  with  Brock- 
man,  whom  the  Independence  party  hung  to  a  tree  on 
Drum  creek  until  life  was  almost  extinct ;  although  Brock- 
man  was  a  cruel  and  inhuman  man  to  his  own  family. 

No,  the  Benders  had  no  accomplices.  But  neighbor 
had  distrusted  neighbor,  and  some  were  standing  aloof 
from  others. 

I  sold  farm  machinery  in  that  locality  the  summer  of 
the  spring  that  the  Benders  disappeared  and  the  bodies 
of  their  victims  were  found.  I  was  traveling  for  B.  A. 
Aldrich,  a  hardware  man  of  Parsons,  Kan.  I  was  from 
house  to  house,  and  became  familiar  with  all  the  neigh- 
borhood stories,  versions,  and  suspicions  about  the  Bender 
murders. 

What  became  of  the  Benders?  Read  on  in  this  book 
under  the  caption  of  the  "Staked  Plains  Horror"  during 
the  summer  of  1877.  Listen  to  the  story  as  told  to  me, 
as  the  narrator  and  I  were  lying  on  our  blankets,  with 
our  saddles  for  pillows,  the  night  of  the  20th  of  July,  on 
the  border  of  western  Texas  and  eastern  New  Mexico. 
Then  let  the  readers  judge  for  themselves  what  became  of 
the  Benders.  Yes,  let  them  decide  for  themselves  as  to 
the  truth  or  falsity  of  the  story.  I  believed  the  story  therij 
I  believe  it  now. 


CHAPTER  III. 

A  Trip  to  New  Mexico. — Prospecting  Around  the  Base  of  Mount 
Baldy. — Experience  with  a  Cinnamon  Bear. — Wail  of  the  Moun- 
tain Lion. — Tattooed  Natives,  bound  for  the  Texas  Panhandle. — 
Lanced  a  BuflFalo. — Loaned  My  Gun  and  Suffered. 

Early  in  the  spring  of  1874  I  started  for  Santa  F^,  New 
Mexico,  stopping  off  at  Granada,  Colorado,  for  a  short 
time.  Granada  was  at  that  time  the  end  of  the  Atchison, 
Topeka  &  Santa  Fe  Railroad.  From  Granada  I  went  to 
Las  Animas,  and  traveled  over  the  Dry  Cimarron  route, 
through  Rule  canon,  on  over  the  Raton  mountains,  through 
Dick  Hooten  pass,  and  on  into  Las  Vegas,  New  Mexico, 
where  I  arrived  in  May.  There  I  fell  in  company  with 
the  Eighth  United  States  regulars,  whose  commanding 
officer  was  Major  Alexander,  and  who  gave  me  permission 
to  travel  with  his  command  to  Santa  F^.  At  Santa  ¥6 
I  met  a  Dr.  Strand,  one  of  the  notorious  Star  Route  mail 
contractors  at  the  time.  We  two,  with  an  assayer,  H.  C. 
Justice,  formed  a  company  to  prospect  for  gold  in  the 
Saint  Mary's  range,  near  the  headwaters  of  the  Picorice, 
Lumbay,  and  Bean  creeks,  all  tributaries  of  the  Rio 
Grande  river. 

Leaving  Santa  F^,  we  packed  up  under  the  base  of  Baldy 
mountain,  and  struck  camp  near  timber  line,  at  the  head 
of  the  North  Picorice.  Here  we  stayed  several  days, 
and  prospected  out  different  ways  from  camp. 

It  was  now  past  midsummer.  The  mountains  were 
grand!  The  scenery  sublime  and  awe-inspiring!  From 
our  camp,  at  this  place,  we  had  only  to  climb  a  short  dis- 
tance to  where  we  could  look  west  and  northwest  across 

(45) 


46  THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

the  Rio  Grande  and  behold  the  San  Juan  range.  Nearly- 
due  north  of  us  were  the  towering  Spanish  Peaks ;  and  on 
still  further  the  Greenhorn  mountains;  and  east  of  us 
the  Pecos  river.  Still  on  south,  down,  over  and  beyond 
Santa  Fe,  the  Placer  Mountains  loomed  up  as  out  of  a 
desert.  The  whole  formed  a  grand  and  imposing  scene. 
Once  this  panoramic  view  is  seen,  it  is  never  to  be  for- 
gotten. 

We  were  in  a  broken,  distorted  and  chopped-up  country. 
I  was  reminded  of  the  story  I  had  heard  of  the  atheist 
and  some  cowboys,  which  I  will  here  relate.  A  herd  of 
cattle  had  been  contracted  for  to  be  delivered  at  Taos, 
New  Mexico.  They  were  being  driven  up  the  Arkansas 
river  from  near  where  the  Great  Bend  is.  The  atheist 
fell  in  with  the  outfit  near  old  Fort  Dodge.  He  was  an 
excellent  and  interesting  conversationalist,  and  after  each 
day's  drive,  in  the  evenings  around  the  camp-fire,  the 
boys  would  get  him  started;  he  was  always  wound  up. 
They  gave  him  respectful  hearings,  which  were  always 
entertaining  and  interesting  to  them.  He  got  to  in- 
jecting his  favorite  doctrine  from  time  to  time  in  his  talks; 
and  finally,  as  they  were  approaching  the  mountains,  he 
gave  them  a  fine  discourse  upon  ^^The  beauties  of  nature,' ' 
telling  his  hearers  that  'Hhis  was  a  world  of  chance;  that 
it  was  an  absurd  idea  that  it  had  been  made  by  Divine 
hands,  as  there  was  no  such  thing  as  a  Supreme  Being," 
etc. 

When  they  got  well  up  into  the  mountains  they  came 
one  day  to  a  place  where  Nature  had  seemed  to  do  her 
best,  by  way  of  canons,  storm-scarred  peaks,  broken  and 
castellated  buttes,  wild  and  yawning  gorges  or  chasms; 
and  as  they  were  gazing,  far  and  near,  on  the  grand  sub- 
limity of  the  scene,  the  atheist  remarked:   '^0,  what  mag- 


STORY   OF  THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  47 

nificence!  How  beautiful!  How  remarkable!  How  un- 
surpassingly  grand  and  awe-inspiring!"  One  of  the  cow- 
boys drawled  out — "Yes  sir-ee.  You've  been  preachin' 
no  God  to  us  fellers ;  but  I'm  right  here  to  tell  you  that  if 
there  ain't  any  God  now  there  has  been  one,  sometime." 

Near  this  camp  there  was  a  place  where  we  could  gather 
mountain  dewberries  and  huckleberries  at  the  same  time. 
Not  more  than  fifty  feet  away  we  could  make  snowballs 
and  shy  at  the  saucy  magpies.  We  had  grass  in  abundance 
for  our  saddle-horses  and  pack-burros.  Our  camp  was  at 
the  margin  of  a  clear,  beautiful  rivulet  bordered  with 
water-cress  and  fringed  with  quaking-asp.  At  night  we 
tied  our  riding-horses  to  trees,  and  turned  them  loose  in 
the  daytime.  Mr.  Justice's  mountain-climber  was  a  free 
lance,  the  doctor's  was  hobbled,  and  mine  had  a  bell  on. 

In  the  daytime  the  burros  would  graze  off  a  hundred 
yards  or  more,  but  as  twilight  came  on  they  would  edge  in 
toward  camp.  And  all  night  long  they  would  stay  close 
to  the  camp-fire.  This  was  instinct.  They  seemed  to 
act  on  the  principle  that  caution  was  the  parent  of  safety. 
The  loud,  piercing,  scream  of  the  mountain  lion  had  ter- 
rified their  ancestry  since  Cortez  had  made  the  conquest 
of  Mexico. 

The  second  night  we  were  at  this  camp  we  were  awakened 
by  the  cries  of  one  of  these  creatures,  which  appeared  not 
more  than  300  yards  south  of  us.  Just  north  of  us  was  a 
sheer,  almost  perpendicular  battlement  of  decomposed 
quartz  rising  some  ten  or  twelve  hundred  feet  higher  than 
where  we  were.  This  weird,  almost  human  cry  would  echo 
back  to  us.  It  was  not  a  roar,  b\it  more  like  a  cry  of  dis- 
tress, which  the  brute  kept  up  at  intervals  for  nearly  half 
an  hour,  without  seeming  to  change  position.  At  the  first 
outcry  we  all  got  up.     I  ''chunked  up"  our  camp-fire, 


48  THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

replenished  it  with  dry  fuel,  and  soon  we  had  a  big  blaze. 
As  the  flames  leaped  up  and  the  flitting  shadows  appeared 
among  the  scattering  spruce  and  aspen  along  the  little 
prong  of  the  Picorice,  together  with  the  sound  of  the  water- 
fafl  just  above  us,  the  neighing  of  my  own  horse,  the  closely 
huddled  burros  at  the  fireside,  the  long-drawn-out  wail  of 
the  lion,  the  superstitious  Mexican  cook,  crossing  himself 
and  muttering  something  about  the  Virgin  Mary,  made 
a  show  worth  going  a  long  ways  to  see  and  hear. 

At  this  camp  our  daily  routine  was  about  as  follows: 
Breakfast  about  7  a.  m.  Old  Mr.  Justice,  the  mineralogist, 
would  take  his  gun  and  fishing-tackle  and  start  down  the 
canon  to  where  two  other  little  brooks  came  into  the  one 
on  which  we  were  camped.  He,  generally,  was  not  absent 
more  than  two  or  three  hours,  when  he  would  come  back 
with  a  fine  string  of  mountain  trout.  The  Doctor  and 
myself  would  leave  camp  just  after  breakfast,  each  carry- 
ing a  stout  tarpaulin  pouch  about  the  size  of  an  army 
haversack  hung  over  our  shoulders  regulation  style.  We 
carried  a  stone-hammer,  a  small  pick,  a  hatchet,  our  guns, 
and  lunch.  We  would  take  a  certain  direction  for  the 
hunting  of  specimens.  Neither  of  us  knew  anything 
about  mining  or  minerals.  When  we  found  anything  that 
we  thought  might  contain  precious  metals,  we  would  take 
a  chunk  of  it,  number  it,  pasting  a  piece  of  paper  on  it, 
marking  the  spot  where  we  found  it  with  a  corresponding 
number. 

But  it  is  safe  to  say  that  after  one  of  these  day  cruises, 
we  could  not  go  back  and  find  half  the  places  where  we  had 
picked  up  specimens,  especially  when  we  were  above  tim- 
ber-line around  Old  Baldy;  for  here  we  would  zigzag 
around  minor  buttes,  cross  over  gorges,  up  slopes,  and 
down  steep  inclines,  ever  keeping  in  our  mind  the  way 


STORY  OF  THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  49 

back  to  camp,  and  a  weather  eye  out  for  old  Ephraim,  or 
a  cinnamon  bear,  whose  territory  we  were  then  in.  When 
the  afternoon  was  pretty  well  gone  we  would  head  for 
camp,  and  never  failed  but  once  to  strike  it  all  right. 

Arriving  at  camp,  the  assayer  would  mortar  and  pan 
out  our  specimens.  The  Mexican  would  soon  have  our 
hot  coffee,  frying-pan  bread,  some  canned  fruit,  and  our 
daily  ration  of  trout,  ready.  Then  supper  was  eaten. 
Mr.  Justice  would  then  handle  the  specimens  in  mining 
parlance.  He  would  talk:  "P)Tites  of  iron,  porphyry, 
cinnabar,  decomposed  quartz,  base  metal,  the  mother 
lode,  dips,  spurs  cross,"  and  the  Lord  only  knows  what 
else, — which  to  me,  a  man  with  scarcely  any  education  at 
all,  was  hopeless  confusion;  for,  gold  or  no  gold  was  the 
knowledge  I  was  seeking.  Then  the  Doctor  would  give 
an  account  of  the  day's  events,  a  description  of  the  route 
we  had  taken,  and  wind  up  with  the  opinion  that  '*we 
were  in  a  very  rich  mineral  region."  The  horses  brought 
in  and  tied,  we  would  sit  around  the  camp-fire  and  talk 
for  awhile,  then  to  bed. 

Not  a  mosquito;  no  fleas;  no  flies;  and  such  grand 
nights  for  sound  sleep,  under  a  pair  of  double  blankets, 
with  spruce  boughs  for  a  mattress  to  lie  on. 

We  stayed  at  this  particular  place  eight  days,  then 
broke  camp  and  went  to  the  head-waters  of  the  Lumbay, 
about  three  miles  away.  Here  we  camped  in  the  edge  of 
a  glade,  where  two  branches  of  the  stream  proper  con- 
verged. We  were  at  this  camp  four  days,  and  while  here 
I  shot  my  first  bear,  but  did  not  kill  him.  He  was  on  the 
opposite  side  of  a  canon  from  me,  and  some  forty  yards 
away.  I  was  on  the  brink  of  the  canon,  which  would  be 
called  a  close  canon.  It  was  about  sixty  feet  across,  with 
perpendicular  walls,  and  was  fully  eighty  feet  deep- at  this 


50  THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

place.  The  bear  was  in  an  opening  of  timber,  and  the 
ground  was  covered  with  a  dense  growth  of  mountain 
dewberries,  which  were  then  in  their  prime.  The  bear 
was  about  twenty  yards  from  the  opposite  brink  from 
which  I  was  on.  He  was  nearly  upright;  using  his  front 
paws,  drawing  the  tops  of  the  bushes  to  his  mouth,  strip- 
ping off  the  berries,  leaves,  and  twigs,  eating  all  ravenously 
as  though  he  were  hungry.  His  body  was  slightly  quarter- 
ing to  me.  He  was  wholly  unconscious  of  my  near  pres- 
ence. I  had  a  44  center-fire  Winchester,  the  first  maga- 
zine gun  I  had  owned.  I  had  practiced  with  it  until  it 
had  gained  my  confidence  completely  as  the  gun.  I  raised 
the  Winchester,  took  deliberate  aim,  thinking  to  give  him 
a  heart  shot.  At  the  crack  of  the  gun  he  threw  his  right 
arm  across  his  breast,  under  his  left  arm,  and  seemed  to 
slap  his  left  side,  leaped  forward,  and  as  I  gave  him  the 
next  shot,  he  rose  straight  up,  standing  on  his  hind  feet, 
and  seemed  to  be  looking  straight  at  me.  From  that  on  I 
worked  the  breech-block  as  fast  as  I  could  until  the  mag- 
azine was  empty. 

By  this  time  the  bear  was  not  more  than  ten  or  twelve 
feet  from  the  brink  of  the  canon.  I  started  up  the  stream 
on  a  run,  and  as  I  ran  I  was  taking  cartridges  out  of  my 
belt  and  reloading  the  magazine.  Our  camp  was  less  than 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  above,  and  on  the  same  side  the  bear 
was  on,  and  the  head  of  the  canon  proper  was  just  a  little 
way  below  the  camp.  My  rapid  firing  had  attracted  the 
attention  of  my  companions  in  camp,  and  they  were  hur- 
rying down  the  caiion  on  the  opposite  side.  When  we  got 
opposite  each  other,  I  said,  '^Wait;  don't  go  down  there 
or  you  will  get  into  a  fight  with  a  wounded  cinnamon." 
They  all  turned  and  came  back,  and  as  we  met  at  the  head 
of  the  canon,  I  explained  how  the  situation  was  when  I  left. 


STORY   OF   THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  51 

Mr.  Justice  said: 

'^All  right.  Now  let's  all  get  in  line  and  keep  abreast 
and  go,  step  by  step,  as  easy  as  we  can,  and  look  carefully, 
and  if  we  should  meet  or  find  him,  we  ought  surely  to  be 
able  to  down  him  before  he  can  injure  any  of  us.'' 

I  was  placed  on  the  side  next  to  the  canon,  the  same  be- 
ing on  my  right,  Mr.  Justice  on  my  left  about  twenty  feet 
from  me,  the  Mexican  next,  and  Doctor  Strand  on  the  ex- 
treme left.  By  this  time  I  had  got  myself  pulled  together. 
That  I  had  ''buck  ager"  and  "bear  fright"  together,  goes 
without  saying;  for  had  I  taken  the  second  thought  I 
should  have  kriown  that  it  was  physically  impossible  for  a 
bear  to  have  crossed  that  canon,  at  or  near  there,  and  that 
I  could  have  stood  where  I  fired  my  first  shot  and  shot  the 
other  thirty-two  cartridges  at  him,  if  he  had  stayed  in 
sight,  with  all  impunity.  My  first  shot  was  a  cool,  delib- 
erate, dead  aim,  and  I  shall  always  believe  that  a  small 
berry  twig  had  deflected  the  bullet. 

We  started  our  line  of  march  and  search,  and  had  pro- 
ceeded cautiously  about  two  hundred  yards,  when  Mr.  J. 
stopped  and  said,  ''Wope!"  His  quick  eye  had  noticed 
some  bushes  shaking  straight  ahead  of  him.  ''Boys," 
he  said,  ''we  are  close  onto  him;  be  very  careful  and 
make  no  bad  shot;  they  are  desperate  creatures  when 
woimded;  Doctor,  you  and  the  Mexican  [whose  name  was 
Manuel]  stay  here  and  Cook  and  I  will  go  a  little  further." 

We  went  about  thirty-five  yards  and  came  to  a  large 
log  or  fallen  tree.  Mr.  Justice  and  I  were  then  not  above 
two  paces  apart.  He  whispered  to  me  saying,  "I'll  cau- 
tiously get  up  on  this  trunk,  where  I  can  get  a  good  view." 
As  he  straightened  himself  up,  he  looked  in  the  direction 
that  he  had  seen  the  bushes  moving.  He  raised  his  rifle, 
took  a  deliberate  aim  and  fired.     He  had  killed   "my 


52  THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

bear/'  the  ball  entering  the  butt  of  the  left  ear  and  going 
into  the  brain.  Upon  examining  the  carcass  it  was  found 
that  I  had  made  seven  hits,  but  only  one  that  would  have 
proved  fatal. 

From  this  camp  we  moved  on  down  the  Lumbay  to  the 
mouth  of  the  canon,  some  seven  or  eight  miles.  We  cut 
our  own  trail  as  we  went.  I  generally  went  ahead  on  foot 
and  with  a  squaw-ax  lopped  off  such  limbs  as  would  strike 
our  packs.  It  was  a  slow,  tedious  transit.  We  had  to 
pass  through  a  timber-fall  for  nearly  two  miles,  where 
there  had  been  a  tornado  and  the  trees  had  uprooted,  and 
in  many  places  piled  one  on  top  of  another,  crossed  and 
interlocked  in  such  a  formidable  barricade  that  we  could 
not  pass  through;  in  which  case  we  would  zigzag  back 
and  work  our  way  around.  We  met  several  such  obstacles 
that  day,  and  went  only  five  miles  from  early  morning 
till  late  in  the  evening.  We  camped  on  a  mountain  spur, 
tired  out,  arriving  at  the  mouth  of  the  canon  the  next  day. 

About  noon  we  met  a  party  of  Greasers,  fifteen  in  num- 
ber, who  lived  down  in  the  valley  of  the  Lumbay.  Man- 
uel's father  was  a  member  of  the  party.  They  had  not 
seen  each  other  for  more  than  a  year.  When  they  met 
they  hugged  and  kissed  each  other,  a  custom  among  the 
peon  classes.  We  learned  that  a  mountain  lion  had  been 
killing  their  sheep,  and  they  had  gathered  together  to 
hunt  it  to  its  death,  but  so  far  had  failed  to  stalk  him,  and 
were  going  back  home. 

From  this  camp,  down  the  canon,  it  was  fifteen  miles 
to  the  Mexican  town  of  Lumbay,  and  a  clear  open  trail 
all  the  way  except  now  and  then  a  tree  that  had  fallen 
across  it. 

At  this  camp  I  saw  the  evidence  of  preceding  gener- 
ations of  more  than  200  years  before.    It  was  in  the  form 


STORY  OF  THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  53 

of  an  acequia  or  irrigation  ditch,  and  this  ditch,  to  reach 
and  water  the  fertile  valley  of  the  Lumbay,  had  followed 
from  just  a  few  rods  above  the  head  of  the  canon,  a  sinu- 
ous, tortuous  course,  around  the  heads  of  gorges  and 
fairly  clinging  to  the  face  of  perpendicular  walls  a  distance 
of  forty-five  miles.  This  statement  about  the  length  of 
the  ditch  I  want  my  readers  to  take  as  hearsay.  But  I 
personally  saw  enough  of  it  to  be  convinced  that  it  was  a 
wonderful  piece  of  engineering  skill. 

We  prospected  here  three  days,  then  broke  camp  for  the 
valley  proper,  where  we  camped  near  a  Catholic  church. 
Here  we  saw  a  type  of  humanity  that  for  downright  super- 
stition beats  anything  I  ever  heard  of.  During  the  sea- 
son, if  a  cloud  would  appear  and  lightning  and  thunder 
accompanied  it,  they  would  hang  an  image  of  Christ  in  an 
exposed  place,  to  appease  the  wrath  of  the  storm  king, 
hoping  to  avert  a  hail-storm.  When  there  was  an  ex- 
cessive drought  they  would  fire  off  old  muskets,  beat 
drums  and  blow  horns  to  bring  rain.  I  saw  this  same 
thing  done  at  Las  Vegas.  Many  of  the  women  were 
tattooed  on  face,  neck,  breast  and  arms,  for  indiscretions. 
In  the  rear  of  this  church  were  two  large  piles  of  crosses. 
The  timbers  in  them  nearly  as  large  as  a  railroad  tie. 
When  doing  penance  these  superstitious  beings  of  the 
peon  class  were  compelled  by  their  priests  to  shoulder 
these  crosses  and  march  around  the  church  for  a  given 
lengtji  of  time,  according  to  the  gravity  of  the  sin  com- 
mitted. Another  mode  of  punishment  was  for  the  peni- 
tent to  walk  bare-kneed  on  beans  strewn  on  hard  ground. 

At  this  place  was  a  water  grist-mill  of  the  most  primi- 
tive kind.  Also,  was  to  be  seen  here  the  forked  wood 
plow.  The  mode  of  grain-threshing  was  to  place  the 
bundles  of  grain  on  the  ground  in  a  circle^and^chase  a 


54  THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

band  of  goats  around  over  the  grain  in  a  circle,  until  their 
feet  had  hulled  the  grain  from  the  straw.  While  at  this 
camp  we  feasted  on  roast ing-ears,  melons,  string  beans, 
cabbage,  onions,  and  potatoes. 

While  here  we  all  suddenly  recovered  from  the  "gold 
fever."  The  Apache  Indians  had  gone  on  the  war-path, 
and  were  terrorizing  the  people  south  of  Santa  Fe.  We 
moved  down  to  Santa  Fe,  sold  our  burros,  and  dissolved 
partnership.  I  then  left  Santa  Fe,  and  went  to  Casa  La 
Glorieta,  and  early  in  October  I  left  Casa  La  Glorieta  for 
the  Panhandle  of  Texas. 

In  those  days  it  was  the  custom  of  the  Mexicans  to  go 
each  fall  to  border  New  Mexico  and  Texas  on  ''meat 
hunts."  They  would  organize  parties  consisting  of  from 
fifteen  to  twenty-five  men,  never  taking  any  women  along, 
and  they  would  take  from  four  to  ten  wagons  with  from 
two  to  four  yoke  of  oxen  to  the  wagon.  There  would  be 
from  ten  to  fifteen  lance  horses,  and  each  lancer  would 
be  armed  with  a  lance-blade  about  fourteen  inches  long, 
fastened  by  sinews  to  a  staff  seven  to  eight  feet  long. 

There  was  generally  some  elderly  man  in  charge  of  each 
outfit.  They  were  usually  gone  from  six  weeks  to  three 
months  on  these  hunting  trips,  and  would  return  with 
great  loads  of  jerked  dried  buffalo  meat,  which  found  a 
ready  sale. 

While  at  La  Glorieta,  New  Mexico,  I  became  acquainted 
with  Antonio  Romero,  whose  family  was  among  the  higher 
class  of  Mexicans.  He  had  had  some  dealing  with  my 
uncle.  General  Robert  Mitchell,  who  had  been  Territorial 
Governor  of  New  Mexico.  Upon  finding  out  that  I  was 
a  relative  of  the  general's,  Romero  invited  me  to  partake 
of  the  hospitality  of  his  home.  His  English  was  meager, 
but  we  could  understand  each  other  by  engaging  in  a 


STORY   OF   THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  55 

tedious  conversation.  He,  upon  learning  that  I  wished 
to  get  to  Fort  Elhott,  in  the  Panhandle  of  Texas,  informed 
me  that  he  and  his  son,  two  sons-in-law,  and  some  neigh- 
bors, were  going  on  a  meat  hunt  and  would  be  glad  to  have 
me  accompany  them ;  that  we  would  go  as  far  east  as  the 
''Adobe  Walls,"  in  the  Panhandle  of.  Texas,  and  that  it 
was  not  far  from  there  to  Fort  Elliott. 

We  left  Romero's  ranch  on  the  10th  of  October,  1874. 
We  followed  the  old  Santa  Fe  Trail  to  Bernal  Springs,  and 
from  there  followed  a  trail  slightly  southeastward,  and 
came  to  the  South  Canadian  river  at  old  Fort  Bascom, 
which  had  recently  been  abandoned  as  a  military  garrison, 
and  was  then  being  used  as  the  headquarters  for  a  large 
cattle  ranch.  Here  we  overtook  another  meat-himting 
party  from  Galisteo,  about  eight  miles  below  Bascom. 
Four  lancoi-s  rode  out  from  the  Galisteo  outfit  and  lanced 
two  range  steers.  Others  of  their  party  went  to  the  place 
of  killing  and  got  the  meat. 

Our  outfit  kept  straight  on  to  where  we  camped  that 
evening,  not  far  from  an  out-camp  of  the  main  ranch.  I 
asked  Romero  if  such  work  as  I  had  seen  was  the  custom 
of  the  country.    He  said : 

''No;  and  them  Galisteo  people  are  liable  to  get  us  all 
into  trouble." 

"Well,"  I  said,  "I  am  opposed  to  traveling  with  them. 
Don't  let's  use  any  of  that  meat  in  our  camp,  and  to-mor- 
row let's  separate  from  them."    This  we  did. 

Just  before  we  got  to  the  mouth  of  Blue  Water,  we  dis- 
covered off  to  our  right,  and  about  two  miles  away,  the 
first  buffalo.  They  were  lying  down,  and  the  wind  was 
nearly  straight  from  them  to  us.  Soon  everything  was 
hurry  and  excitement.  Lances  were  gotten  out,  lance 
horses  saddled,   hats  discarded,   and  handkerchiefs  tied 


56 


THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 


STORY   OF  THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  57 

around  the  heads  like  turbans.  I  was  offered  a  horse  and 
lance,  which  seemed  to  surprise  the  whole  party  when  I 
readily  accepted  the  offer;  for  nothing  ever  pleased  me 
better  than  a  wild,  pell-mell  ride.  One  of  the  party  who 
could  talk  fairly  good  English,  gave  me  some  instructions, 
how  to  do  when  I  came  alongside  of  a  buffalo.  But  I  did 
the  opposite,  and  got  the  worst  of  it.- 

We  rode  out  from  the  wagons,  and  getting  a  mound 
between  us  and  the  herd,  we  cantered  up  to  the  mound 
and  separated,  some  going  around  on  opposite  sides. 
When  we  came  in  view  of  the  herd  we  were  not  more  than 
one  hundred  and  seventy  yards  from  them,  and  we  were 
riding  full  tilt.  Before  they  could  arise  and  get  in  full 
motion  we  were  up  to  them.  There  were  about  thirty- 
five  in  all.  I  was  on  the  left,  and  the  first  Mexican  on  my 
right  was  a  little  in  the  advance.  He  gave  his  horse  a 
quic|c  spurt  and  was  alongside  of,  and  lanced  a  fat  cow. 
I  was  close  in  behind  one,  and  raised  my  lance  to  a  poise, 
when  my  horse  veered  slightly  to  the  left  and  with  a  quick 
lurch  forward  I  lanced  a  buffalo.  But  in  doing  so  I  had 
thrust  more  backward,  instead  of  vice  versa,  as  instructed, 
and  in  undertaking  to  withdraw  the  lance,  I  lost  my  bal- 
ance and  was  flat  on  the  ground. 

Springing  to  my  feet,  I  saw  everybody  and  everything 
had  passed  me.  My  horse  went  on  a  short  distance, 
stopped,  and  went  to  grazing.  I  stood  still  and  took  the 
situation  aU  in.  The  buffalo  I  lanced  fell  on  its  right  side 
about  200  yards  ahead  of  me  with  the  staff  of  the  lance 
almost  perpendicular.  I  thought  to  get  my  horse,  but 
just  then  I  saw,  off  to  my  front  and  right,  a  horse  and  rider 
fall,  and  for  a  few  moments  witnessed  the  most  thrilling 
and  exciting  scene  of  my  life.  Buffaloes  were  reeling  and 
staggering  out  of  line  of  the  run.    A  lancer  would  dash 


58  THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

up  to  one  that  had  not  been  struck  yet,  make  a  quick 
thrust  and  retrieve,  rush  on  to  the  next  one,  and  repeat 
until  his  horse  was  winded.  Some,  whose  horses  were  not 
as  speedy  as  others,  had  singled  out  one  certain  buffalo 
and  were  a  mile  away  before  getting  to  use  the  lance. 

When  the  chase  was  over  we  had  sixteen  bison  for  that 
effort.  We  dressed  the  meat  and  loaded  it  into  ■  empty 
wagons,  and  proceeded  on  to  Blue  Water,  better  known 
in  those  days  as  Ona  Sula.  Here  we  stayed  several  days, 
jerking  and  drying  meat.  The  lancers  were  out  every  day 
looking  for  buffalo,  but  found  very  few. 

From  this  place  we  moved  about  four  miles.  The 
lancers  that  went  north  that  day  came  in  and  reported 
that  '^we  would  soon  all  have  plenty  of  work,  as  the  buf- 
faloes were  coming  south,  in  a  solid  mass  as  far  as  they  could 
see,  east  or  west." 

The  next  morning  Romero  asked  me  for  my  Winchester, 
saying  he  wished  to  go  north  and  see  if  he  could  see  buffa- 
loes. I  went  to  my  bed,  got  the  gun  and  handed  it  to  him. 
He  rode  off,  and  it  was  many  days  before  I  saw  him  again. 

About  an  hour  after  he  left  canap,  one  of  the  lancers 
came  in  and  told  me  that  four  Americans  were  camped 
about  a  mile  down  the  Blue  Water  and  on  a  little  stream  a 
half-mile  up  from  the  Canadian  river.  Without  taking  a 
second  thought,  I  started  for  their  camp.  I  had  heard 
scarcely  nothing  but  the  Spanish  lingo  for  more  than  five 
weeks,  and  was  homesick  for  my  own  kind. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Lost. — Alone  at  Night  in  the  Wilds. — Quicksanded  in  the  Canadian. 
— The  Beaver  Played  in  the  Water. — Second  Day  and  Night  it 
Snowed. — Wolves  Serenade  Me. — Getting  Snowblind. — Third 
Night  Out,  Suffered  in  Body  and  Mind. — Following  Morning, 
found  Adobe  Walls. — And  the  Good  Samaritans  Were  There. 

My  earthly  possessions  at  this  time  consisted  of  two  pairs 
of  woolen  blankets,  one  large,  heavy,  water-proof  Navajo 
blanket,  one  bright,  gaudy  serape,  a  buffalo-hair  pillow, 
two  suits  of  underclothes,  two  navy-blue  overshirts,  an 
extra  pair  of  pants,  an  overcoat,  and  an  undercoat.  I  told 
the  Mexican. that  could  speak  English  that  "I  would  go 
and  see  those  men  and  try  to  get  in  with  them,  and  go  on 
farther  east  toward  Fort  Elliott/' 

I  had  $96.60  in  my  purse.  I  took  from  the  sack  that 
contained  my  extra  clothing  some  papers,  for  my  identifi- 
cation, wishing  to  place  myself  right  with  the  four  men  at 
the  start,  for  on  the  frontier  there  were  more  or  less  men  of 
shady  repute  and  some  notorious  outlaws.  Every  riding- 
horse  at  this  time  was  out  of  camp.  The  English-speaking 
Mexican  said  that  I  "had  better  wait  until  some  of  the 
lancers  came  in  and  go  on  horseback."  I  said,  "No;  it 
is  only  a  little  ways  and  I  would  just  as  soon  walk." 

The  Indians  had  been  subdued  the  summer  before,  and 
we  all  felt  safe  in  that  one  respect,  and  would  continue 
to  feel  so  imtil  the  next  spring.  So  I  struck  out.  The 
Mexican  Who  came  in  and  told  me  about  the  four  men 
being  encamped,  after  describing  them  and  their  outfit, 
which  was  interpreted  to  me,  passed  on  out  westward  to 
look  for  a  chance  to  lance  a  buffalo.    When  I  left  camp  I 

(59) 


60  THE  BOEDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

was  wearing  a  half-worn  pair  of  heavy  congress  gaiters, 
and  a  pair  of  heavy  duck  leggings.  It  was  not  my  inten- 
tion to  be  gone  more  than  three  or  four  hours.  I  struck 
out  down  the  Blue,  at  a  rapid  gait.  At  this  time  I  was  in 
excellent  mettle,  apparently  in  perfect  health.  My  muscles 
were  thoroughly  toughened  by  rough,  rugged  physical 
exercise,  my  appetite  good  and  sleep  sound. 

This  was  the  morning  of  the  15th  of  November,  1874. 
As  I.walked  along  I  was  possessed  of  hopes  of  a  successful 
future.  I  went  down  Blue  Water  to  where  it  empties 
into  the  South  Canadian.  I  saw  a  smoke  across  the  river 
on  a  little  creek  that  put  into  the  Canadian  from  the  south 
side.  This  must  be  the  camp,  and  the  Mexican  had  said 
nothing  about  crossing  the  river.  This  smoke  was  more 
than  a  mile  away,  near  a  brush  thicket.  I  forded  the 
river  and  went  up  the  creek,  only  to  find  an  abandoned 
camp.  The  sign  was  fresh ;  they  had  not  been  gone  long. 
I  followed  the  wagon-trail  up  the  creek  to  where  it  crossed, 
taking  up  a  slope  in  a  southeast  direction.  I  hurried  on  to 
the  top  of  the  plains,  hoping  to  get  a  view  of  the  outfit  I 
was  looking  for. 

Standing  here  and.  looking  over  a  vast  stretch  of  country, 
I  saw  to  my  left  the  rugged  and  irregular  breaks  of  the 
Canadian ;  in  front  of  me  some  two  miles  or  more  were  the 
breaks  of  a  canon  coming  into  the  river  from  the  south; 
and  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  canon  saw  the  outfit. 

I  was  hunting,  heading  northward  toward  the  Canadian 
river.  They  had  traveled  a  southeast  course  to  round 
the  head  of  the  canon,  and  were  traveling  down  the  east- 
ern side  of  it  when  I  saw  them.  Thinking  I  could  yet 
intercept  them,  I  headed  in  the  direction  of  the  mouth  of 
the  canon.  Having  short  buffalo-grass  to  walk  over  and 
a  level,  stoneless  prairie,  without  a  sign  of  mesquite  or 


STORY  OF  THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  61 

sage-brush,  as  the  cowboys  would  say,  "I  fairly  rattled 
my  hocks." 

Arriving  at  the  mouth  of  the  canon,  there  was  no  one  in 
sight.  But,  standing  on  a  jutting  promontory,  I  could  see 
scattering  bands  of  antelope,  a  large  flock  of  wild  turkeys, 
a  few  straggling  buffalo,  and  one  large  lobo  or  timber  wolf. 
I  went  down  into  the  Canadian  river  bottom  proper, 
turned  east,  crossed  the  ravine  below  the  mouth  of  the 
canon,  and  skirted  along  the  slope,  carefully  looking  for 
the  wagon-tracks  which  are  always,  in  the  short-grass 
country,  very  plain  for  several  days. 

I  traveled  down  parallel  with  the  main  river  about  three 
miles  further,  and  no  results.  I  turned,  going  up  the  slope, 
going  on  to  the  table-land,  expecting  to  find  the  trail  going 
eastward  over  the  bench  or  table-land.  I  traveled  along 
this  bench  and  watched  the  ground  closely,  occasionally 
stopping  and  scanning  the  country  over.  In  this  way  I 
had  traveled  possibly  two  miles  when  I  heard  the  report 
of  a  gun  to  my  right  front,  and,  as  I  judged,  a  mile  away. 

From  here  I  could  have  gone  straight  back  to  the  camp 
of  Mexicans  I  had  left,  not  over  ten  miles  at  farthest,  as 
I  believed.  This  I  should  have  done.  But  I  reasoned 
thus :  The  man  who  fired  that  gun  was  a  member  of  the 
party  I  was  seeking;  I  would  yet  get  to  them  and  would 
offer  to  pay  them  well,  to  go  back  with  me  to  the  Mexi- 
can camp  for  my  own  gun  and  outfit,  and  then  work  my 
way  to  Fort  Elliott.  Acting  upon  this  reasoning,  I  started 
in  the  direction  that  the  report  of  the  gun  came  from, 
walking  very  rapidly  and  taking  no  note  of  the  ground. 

I  had  gone  about  a  mile  when  I  came  in  sight  of  another 
break  in  the  plain  by  a  draw  running  back  from  the  river. 
Before  going  into  the  draw,  or  little  valley,  with  a  water- 
course running  through  it,  and  standing  pools  (at  that 


62  THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

season  the  water  not  running  over  the  riffles),  I  took  a 
good  look  in  every  direction  and  could  see  no  sign  of  hu- 
manity. I  was  dripping  wet  with  perspiration,  and  could 
feel  the  pangs  of  hunger  keenly,  but  was  not  thirsty,  as 
I  had  taken  a  drink  of  water  when  crossing  the  draw  be- 
low the  mouth  of  the  first  canon.  I  went  down  to  the 
nearest  pool  of  water,  stripped  off,  and  took  a  good  bath, 
and  after  rubbing  my  body  thoroughly  with  the  outside 
of  my  outer  shirt,  and  dressing,  I  walked  up  to  the  plateau 
opposite  the  way  I  had  come.  I  sat  down  on  a  chalky 
.  point  facing  the  Canadian  river. 

Whil6  resting  here  and  scanning  the  country  over,  my 
eye  fell  upon  a  peculiar-looking  object  on  a  flat  in  front 
of  me  not  more  than  sixty  rods  away.  The  grass  here 
was  the  short,  curly  buffalo  variety.  Not  a  switch  or  ob- 
ject of  any  kind  around  this  lone  object.  I  gazed  at  it 
for  some  time,  but  could  not  make  it  out.  My  curiosity 
was  now  aroused;  so  I  started  for  it,  and  found  upon 
arrival  that  it  was  a  five-gallon  water-keg  with  a  gray 
woolen  blanket  sewed  around  it,  the  work  having  been 
done  with  a  sacking-needle  and  twiiie.  It  was  lying  near 
the  center  of  a  fresh  trail  made  by  five  or  six  wagons  drawn 
by  both  horses  and  mules,  the  tracks  pointing  southeast. 
I  foUowed  this  trail  until  near  dusk,  and,  no  sign  of  over- 
taking any  one  being  apparent  that  night,  I  turned  around 
and  retraced  my  steps  nearly  a  mile,  to  where  I  -had  passed 
at  the  head  of  a  draw  an  abandoned  camp. 

There  was  quite  a  pfle  of  wood  that  had  been  gathered 
and  not  used.  The  place  was  on  high  ground  overlooking 
the  country  to  the  north  and  west.  There  was  a  thicket 
of  stunted  hackberry  and  palodura,  hard  poles  of  china- 
wood,  close  to  where  the  old  camp-fire  had  been.  There 
was  probably  an  acre  of  it  ah  together.     It  was  now  quite 


STORY   OF   THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  63 

dark  and  the  stars  were  twinkling.  I  picked  up  a  dry- 
twig  and  reached  into  my  pocket  for  my  penknife.  To 
my  chagrin  and  discomfitm-e  I  found  I  had  left  it  in  my 
other  pocket,  when  I  put  on  my  best  trousers  that  morn- 
ing. I  immediately  placed  my  right  hand  across  my 
breast  to  feel  for  my  match-box,  which  I  always  carried 
in  my  left  outside  shirt  pocket,  when  to  my  delight  I  found 
my  matches  were  safe  and  all  right.  I  then  gathered 
some  fine  twigs,  and  soon  had  a  rousing  fire. 

There  was  a  trickling  stream  of  water  coming  out  of 
the  scrubby  wood  patch,  and  the  campers  who  had  pre- 
ceded me  had  dug  a  hole  about  two  feet  deep  and  thirty 
inches  across  for  the  water  to  run  into.  It  was  full  at 
this  time,  so  I  was  assured  of  this  and  a  camp-fire.  I 
was  very  tired  and  quite  hungry.  There  was  an  empty 
Pierre  Lorillard  tobacco-box  here  which  the  campers 
had  left.  This  I  used  for  a  head-rest,  and  in  a  reclining 
position  before  my  fire  I  began  to  think  of  ways  and 
means.  I  finally  decided  to  retrace  my  steps  and  get 
back  to  the  Mexican  camp.  So  I  folded  my  hat,  tied  a 
handkerchief  around  my  head,  placed  the  hat  on  the 
tobacco-box  for  a  pillow,  stretched  out  and  went  to  sleep. 
Three  times  during  the  night  I  was  awakened  by  the  cold. 
Then  I  would  get  up,  replenish  the  fire,  get  warm,  lie  down 
and  sleep  again. 

My  last  awakening  was  at  daylight,  and  the  sky  was 
overcast  with  murky  clouds;  and  here  I  must  say  that  I, 
for  the  first  time,  became  somewhat  doubtful  about  mak^ 
ing,  or  finding  my  way  back  to  the  camp  I  had  left.  But 
the  trail  I  had  been  following  was  plain,  and  could  be 
followed  no  matter  how  cloudy  it  might  get. 

I  have  been  asked  many  times  by  various  plainsmen, 
why,  from  this  camp,  I  did  not  go  north  to  the  Canadian 


64  THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

river,  take  up  the  south  side  of  it  to  the  mouth  of  Blue 
Water,  then  up  Blue  Water  to  the  Mexican  camp.  This 
thought  did  occur  to  me;  but  what  if  that  camp  should 
be  moved?  Might  I  not  get  so  weak  from  hunger  that  I 
would  perish  before  I  could  reach  it? 

So  I  took  the  trail  I  turned  back  on  the  night  before, 
and  traveled  over  it  for  about  six  miles,  when  it  suddenly- 
turned  to  the  right  and  headed  nearly  due  south.  By 
this  time  the  clouds  had  grown  thicker,  the  atmosphere 
warmer  and  damp.  I  had  not  gone  to  exceed  a  hundred 
yards  farther  when  I  came  to  a  cross-trail,  and  noticed 
that  one  wagon  had  turned  off  into  it  and  followed  it  in  a 
northeast  direction.  I  dropped  down  on  the  grass  and 
pondered  in  my  mind  the  pros  and  cons  of  my  predica- 
ment; and  I  reasoned  that  this  one  wagon  had  been  the 
one  that  I  had  followed  the  morning  before,  and  had  at 
all  times  been  on  my  right;  that  it  had  intercepted  the 
trail  somewhere  along  the  route  from  where  I  had  dis- 
covered the  keg,  and  while  walking  along  rapidly,  looking 
more  ahead  than  otherwise,  I  had  not  noticed  it  when  it 
came  into  the  one  I  was  on.  And  as  if  by  impulse  I  arose 
to  my  feet  and  followed  it. 

After  walking  about  eight  miles,  I  suddenly  came  to 
the  breaks  of  the  South  Canadian,  and  walking  down  a 
long,  gradual  draw,  gently  sloping  on  each  side,  I  came 
to  the  river,  and  saw  that  the  trail  crossed  it  and  that 
the  main  channel  was  hard  against  the  south  bank.  I  got 
a  sounding-stick  and  noted  that  the  water  was  about 
three  feet  deep  ten  feet  from  where  the  trail  entered  it. 
A  few  rods  below  I  noticed  a  sandbar  projecting  far  out 
into  the  stream,  which  at  this  place  was  about  one  hundred 
and  twenty-five  yards  wide  from  bank  to  bank. 

These  southwestern  streams  are  generally  very  sinuous, 


STORY   OF   THE    SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  65 

and  the  channel  frequently  shifts  from  side  to  side,  leav- 
ing the  rest  of  the  stream  at  common  or  low  stage  of  water, 
either  in  wet  sandbars  or  a  thin  sheet  of  water  down  to 
this  bar. 

I  went,  thinking  I  would  pull  off  my  shoes  at  the  water's 
edge  and  wade  the  river.  I  had  walked  out  on  this  bar 
about  sixty  yards,  when  I  heard  a  noise  behind  me.  I 
instantly  stopped,  looked  around  and  saw  two  big  rac- 
coons running  along  the  bank,  making  their  peculiar 
noise. 

My  feet  began  sinking  the  moment  I  stopped.  I  raised 
my  left  foot,  placing  my  weight  on  my  right,  and  in  draw- 
ing my  left  foot  out  of  the  quicksand  my  foot  pulled  out 
of  the  shoe,  so  the  stockinged  foot  came  down  on  the 
sand.  I  threw  all  my  weight  on  it,  pulled  on  the  right, 
and  yanked,  struggled,  and  floundered  in  quicksand; 
but  finally  extricated  myself  and  hurried  back  to  solid 
footing,  minus  my  loft  shoe. 

About  this  time  the  wind  began  to  rise,  coming  first 
from  the  southeast.  I  saw,  down  the  river  about  eighty 
rods,  some  large  scattering  cotton  wood  trees.  I  un- 
buttoned my  right  legging,  took  a  four-in-hand  silk  neck- 
tie, wrapped  the  legging  around  my  shoeless  foot,  tied 
it  as  best  I  could,  and  went  to  the  clump  of  trees. 

Here  I  found  a  large  cottonwood  log,  perfectly  dry, 
that  had  recently  fallen.  The  top  was  considerably 
broken  by  the  fall,  and  with  an  abundance  of  broken 
limbs  I  soon  had  a  fire.  My  feet,  and  my  legs  up  to  my 
knees,  were  wet.  The  sand  was  gritted  into  my  stock- 
ings and  drawer-le^,  which  was  very  uncomfortable, 
indeed.  I  stripped  of  pants,  drawers,  and  socks ;  propped 
up  broken  limbs  for  a  drying-rack;  took  off  my  coat  and 
sat  down  upon  it  in  front  of  the  fire;   rubbed  and  thor- 


66  THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

• 

oughly  dried  myself  from  the  knees  down.  After  my 
clothing  had  dried,  I  beat  the  sand  out  of  it  and  rigged  up 
again. 

Here  in  this  sandy  river-bottom  was  tall-stemmed  grass. 
I  got  uneasy  about  my  fire ;  so  I  went  to  work  to  smother 
it  out,  by  using  my  hands  for  a  shovel,  and  scooping  sand 
and  throwing  it  on  the  fire,  which  had  now  burnt  pretty 
well  down.  The  fire  had  been  built  in  lee  of  the  big  log, 
and  I  had  taken  the  precaution  to  trample  the  grass  down 
close  around  the  bare  spot  of  ground  I  had  built  the  fire 
upon.  Then  I  would  ignite  the  edge  of  the  trampled 
grass,  and,  taking  both  leggings  in  my  right  hand,  would 
beat  it  out,  when  I  thought  it  was  near  the  danger-line. 

After  getting  the  fire  secure  from  spreading,  I  got  up  on 
the  log  and  looked  down  the  river,  then  up  stream,  and 
across;  but  no  sign  of  mankind.  Hunger  seemed  to  be 
gnawing  at  my  vitals.  I  would  upbraid  myself  for  lack 
of  wisdom,  and  thought  how  foolishly  I  had  acted  in  leav- 
ing the  Mexican  camp  without  my  gun  and  knife.  Here 
I  was,  ravenously  hungry;  and  here  were  deer,  turkey, 
beaver,  coon,  buffalo  and  antelope,  a  regular  hunter's 
paradise,  and  I  lost  and  helpless,  perfectly  unable  to  help 
myself,  with  the  fat  of  the  land  all  around  me. 

I  sat  down  on  the  log  and  commenced  reasoning,  with 
this  result :  I  was  now  in  the  South  Canadian  river  bot- 
tom ; '  the  military  trail  from  Fort  Dodge,  on  the  Arkansas 
river,  crossed  the  Canadian  river  on  its  way  to  Fort  Elliott, 
which,  I  had  been  informed  while  in  Santa  Fe,  was  about 
thirty-five  miles  south  of  the  crossing ;  that  in  going  down 
the  Canadian  river,  from  where  I  now  was,  one  would 
have  to  pass  the  Adobe  Walls  before  coming  to  the  trail. 

I  now  decided  that  the  sensible  thing  to  do  would  be 
to  go  down,  the  river;    that  I  was  a  young,  strong  man, 


STORY   OF   THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  67 

and  should  brush  all  obstacles  aside;  should  decide  on 
some  certain  route,  follow  that  and  not  zigzag  on  every 
trail  I  came  to.  Then  I  started  and  walked  out  to  the 
foot  of  the  breaks,  where  the  short  grass  came  down  to 
the  bottom-lands,  then  started  down  the  river,  hugging 
the  bluffs  and  crossing  the  narrow  valley  of  the  deeper 
breaks  that  ran  far  back  toward  the  table-land  or  plain, 
heading  for  the  nearest  and  closest  headland  jutting  to- 
ward the  river.  Every  mile  or  so  I  would  have  to  stop 
and  readjust  the  legging  on  my  shoeless  foot. 

I  had  gone  perhaps  five  miles  when  I  came  to  a  very 
plain  wagon- trail,  one  that  had  been  traveled  considerably. 
It  crossed  the  v'wrv  not  uunv  than  200  yards  from  where 
I  came  to  it,  and  led  up  to  the  mouth  of  a  wide  draw  in  a 
southeasterly  course  I  coiiM  see,  too,  that  this  trail 
had  been  icci  ntl\  traveled  over  and  the  last  outfit  that 
had  passed  over  it  had  gone  up  the  draw. 

Thinking  that  this  trail  after  getting  to  the  head  of  the 
draw  might  take  an  eastward  trend,  more  down  the  river, 
I  vacillated  again,  and  followed  it  up  to  the  plateau. 
After  getting  to  the  top,  this  trail  followed  a  hogback 
for  about  a  mile  south,  then,  rounding  the  head  of  another 
break  to  the  east,  it  struck  straight  east,  going  down  the 
river  about  two  miles  from  it.  This  pleased  me,  as  the 
walking  was  much  better,  and  I  could  make  better  time. 

As  cloudy  as  it  was,  the  points  of  the  compass  were  as 
clear  as  a  bell,  in  my  mind. 

I  had  not  proceeded  far  on  this  trail  when  suddenly 
the  wind  shifted  to  the  northwest,  blowing  quite  strong, 
and  soon  scattering  snowflakes  were  falling.  Traveling 
on  about  a  mile  farther,  the  trail  came  to  the  head  of  a 
gradual  draw  running  back  toward  the  Canadian.  There 
were  springs  here,  and  here  also  the  trail  turned  sharply 


68  THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

to  the  southeast,  and  I  started  down  the  draw  for  the 
Canadian  river.  By  this  time  a  Winding  snow-storm 
had  set  in,  and  I  was  travehng  nearly  due  north.  The 
storm  was  pelting  me  from  the  northwest. 

The  only  thing  that  preoccupied  my  mind  now  was 
shelter.  Hence,  I  hurried  down  the  draw,  hoping  to  come 
to  the  brakes  and  find  some  side-break  that  would  afford 
me  wood  and  shelter. 

Once  I  thought  I  was  to  be  run  over  by  a  large  herd  of 
antelope;  they  were  running  at  a  rapid  rate  in  the  wake 
of  the  storm  crossing  the  draw  right  at  me,  as  it  were, 
and  before  they  were  aware  of  my  presence  they  were 
almost  upon  me,  but  discovered  me  just  in  time  to  sepa- 
rate, some  jumping  high,  to  left  and  right,  the  entire  band 
passing  on  each  side  of  me.  They  came  and  were  gone 
like  the  wind. 

Soon  the  wind  abated,  and  a  steady,  heavy  fall  of  snow 
continued.  The  flakes  were  so  thick,  for  a  short  time, 
that  it  was  hardly  possible  to  see  any  distance. 

Pretty  soon  I  heard  an  unusual  noise  just  ahead  of  me, 
and  all  at  once  I  walked  almost  to  the  brink  of  a  large 
pond.  It  was  a  ''beaver  dam,"  and  it  was  beavers  that  I 
had  heard.  I  saw  four  beavers.  They  were  disporting  in 
the  stream,  and  seemed  as  delighted  as  little  children  could 
or  would  be  when  the  first  snowflakes  of  the  season  came. 

After  passing  on  down  below  the  dam,  just  a  little  way, 
I  stepped  upon  a  green  stick  of  cottonwood  about  three 
feet  long  and  about  three  inches  in  diameter.  I  picked 
it  up,  and  saw  that  both  ends  of  the  stick  had  the  tell- 
tale mark  of  beaver  teeth.  This  greatly  encouraged  me; 
for  I  knew  I  could  not  be  far  from  wood. 

Going  on  still  farther,  I  perceived  that  the  snow  was 
not  falling  so  thick  and  that  I  could  see  quite  a  distance 


STORY  OF  THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  69 

ahead,  and  on  either  side  of  me,  and  also  that  night  was 
drawing  near. 

Soon  the  hills  on  each  side  of  me  became  higher  and 
more  rugged.  In  a  few  minutes'  walk  I  saw  to  my  left 
a  side  canon,  or  deep  ravine,  with  a  heavy  growth  of 
young  Cottonwood  trees.  Turning  into  this  gorge-like 
place,  to  my  exceeding  joy  I  found  an  overjutting  wall, 
and  under  it  had  eddied  a  great  pile  of  leaves  from  the 
Cottonwood,  hackberry,  and  stunted  elm.  I  soon  found 
plenty  of  dead  limbs  and  poles,  which  T  dragged  and  car- 
ried to  the  opposite  of  the  projecting  wall. 

The  reader  will  understand  that  this  side  draw  faced 
and  opened  into  the  main  draw  towards  the  east;  this 
overjut  was  on  the  north  side  of  the  draw,  just  at  the  ex- 
treme eastern  edge  of  the  pole  and  timber  thicket;  and 
immediately  south  of  the  overjut  it  was  not  over  eighty 
feet  to  the  base  of  the  hill,  or  embankment,  which  was 
some  forty  feet  higher  than  my  night's  bed  under  the 
overjut. 

I  built  my  fire;  turned  over  two  old  stumps  that  the 
beaver  had  cut  the  trees  from  some  years  before;  placed 
them  side  by  side  between  the  fire  and  overjut.  Then  I 
sat  down;  pulled  off  my  shoe  and  legging,  and  proceeded 
to  dry  my  socks  and  the  bottoms  of  my  pants  legs;  for 
the  snowfall  was  damp  and  my  feet  were  very  wet..  The 
snow  was  still  falling,  and  continued  to  do  so  all  that  long 
November  night. 

I  now  felt  the  need  of  fixing  my  footwear  differently; 
for  I  had  had  trouble  all  day  in  keeping  it  on.  I  took  the 
legging  that  I  had  not  worn  on  the  foot,  and  placing  it 
on  the  ground,  put  the  foot  down  on  it  and  would  fold 
it  up  this  way,  then  would  try  it  that- way,  and  finally 
decided  that  with  a  hole  here,  one  there,  and  another  at 


70  THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

this  place,  and  then  laced  this  way  around  the  ankle,  it 
could  be  kept  on  the  foot  and  not  be  so  bunglesome,  and 
would  make  a  fair  moccasin. 

I  took  a  dry  elm  stick,  put  one  end  in  the  fire  and  got 
it  to  burning  well;  then  would  hold  it  on  an  incline  and 
twirl  it  around,  the  charred  end  on  the  solid  place,  on  one 
of  the  stumps.  I  repeated  this  until  I  got  a  marlinspike 
of  it.  I  then  took  another  stick,  put  the  end  of  it  to  a 
live  coal,  and  would  hold  it  on  the  places,  on  the  improvised 
moccasin,  that  had  been  marked  with  charcoal  where  the 
holes  or  eyelets  were  to  be.  In  this  way  a  small  eyelet 
at  each  place  was  scorched  so  that  the  marlinspike  could 
be  worked  through,  and  by  reaming  it  a  little,  soon  had 
the  eyelet-holes  all  completed. 

Then,  taking  the  silk  four-in-hand  and  with  good  sharp 
teeth  which  I  then  had,  I  managed  to  get  it  started  and 
ripped  it  through  the  center  from  end  to  end.  This  gave 
me  two  just  such  lace-strings  as  I  needed. 

Everything  being  dry,  I  put  on  the  right  shoe,  laced 
on  the  moccasin,  crawled  into  the  leaves, — ^tired,  hungry, 
and  sleepy,  with  not  one  particle  of  fear  of  danger  from 
the  elements,  which  had  concerned  me  so  much  before  I 
reached  this  sheltering  place. 

I  was  disturbed  from  my  slumber  only  once  during  the 
night.  It  was  some  time  after  darkness  had  set  in  when 
I  crawled  into  and  under  the  leaves,  and  when  I  awoke 
it  must  have  been  about  three  o'clock  in  the  morning. 
The  time  is  only  guesswork  with  me,  as  I  had  no  time- 
piece. The  fire  was  nearly  out.  I  had  drawn  some  of 
the  wood  under  the  overjut,  and  as  there  was  no  snow  on 
it  I  soon  had  a  bright,  cheerful  blaze  going.  I  sat  on  the 
two  stumps  a  few  moments,  and,  feeling  sleepy  again, 
I  went  to  bed.     It  was  then  still  snowing  lightly. 


STORY   OF  THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  71 

I  was  awakened  by  the  long-drawn-out  howl  of  wolves, 
and  on  rising  to  a  sitting  posture  I  noticed  that  the  sky 
was  clear  as  crystal,  the  sun  was  shining  brightly,  and  two 
big*  lobo  or  timber  wolves  were  sitting  on  their  haunches 
just  across  the  gorge  on  the  edge  of  the  hill,  not  more  than 
130  feet  from  me,  alternating  in  howUng,  both  facing  me 
and  the  embers  of  my  fire. 

I  got  up  and  '^chunked  up"  the  fire,  and  piled  on  all 
the  remaining  wood  that  I  had  gathered  the  evening  be- 
fore. I  was  well  acquainted  with  the  cunning,  cowardly 
wolf,  and  could  only  think  of  him  with  contempt. 

I  had  read  many  stories  of  savage  wolves,  wliat  they 
had  done  and  what  they  could  do;  but  always  accepted 
them  with  allowance.  But  here  were  two  of  them  face 
to  face  with  me.  No  gun,  no  knife.  I  was  not  scared. 
I  had  read  of  the  effect  fire  had  upon  wolves,  and,  whether 
it  was  true  or  not,  resolved  to  give  myself  the  benefit  of 
the  doubt. 

Accordingly,  I  prepared  me  two  strong  firebrands.  One 
was  about  three  and  the  other  one  four  feet  long.  I 
worked  them  partly  out  of  the  fire,  and  by  rolling  the 
ends  in  snow  put  out  the  fire  to  within  about  one  foot  of 
the  end  of  each  one ;  and  in  walking  out  of  the  gorge  to  the 
main  draw  I.  carried  one  in  each  hand,  every  once  in  a 
while  flirting  them  back  and  forth,  to  fan  them  so  as  to 
keep  the  fire  on  them  alive. 

The  wolves  did  not  followed  me,  nor  did  I  really  think 
they  would,  yet,  I  had  made  such  foolish  moves  for  the 
past  two  days  that  I  did  not  wish  to  take  chances  on  any- 
thing any  more. 

Instead  of  keeping  on  down  the  valley  as  I  had  at  first 
intended  to  do,  I  crossed  it  and  ascended  the  eastern  slope 
to  the  mesa  or  plateau,  upon  coming  to  the  top  of  which 


STORY  OF  THE   SOUTHWEST  PLAINS.  73 

I  stopped  and  scanned  the  country  over,  hoping  to  see  a 
smoke.  For  on  these  mornings  when  the  landscape  is 
covered  with  snow  and  the  air  is  frosty,  smoke  can  be  seen 
a  long  way  off.     But  nothing  of  the  kind  was  visible. 

I  continued  on  in  a  northeasterly  direction,  aiming  to 
strike  the  edge  of  the  river-bottom  again,  and  determined 
now  to  stick  to  it  when  once  there,  unless  I  saw  a  sure- 
enough  camp  away  from  it.  The  real  pangs  of  hunger 
had  left  me,  but  weakness  was  creeping  on.  The  old 
elastic  step  was  gone.  The  snow  was  five  inches  deep. 
The  sun  was  shining  so  brightly  that  my  eyes  were  burn- 
ing. 

Thanks  to  the  wolves,  f  still  had  one  of  the  charred 
sticks  in  my  hands.  I  pinched  off  flakes  of  charcoal 
with  my  finger-nails  and  blackened  my  cheeks  under  my 
eyes.  And  was  it  providential  that  I  escaped  snow- 
blindness? 

Right  here  I  wish  to  stop  this  narrative  long  enough  to 
say  that  I  will  put  the  Panhandle  of  Texas  against  any 
other  180  miles  square  of  territory  in  America  for  spas- 
modic, erratic,  weather.  Before  the  sun  reached  the 
meridian  it  was  very  warm.  Not  a  breath  of  air  seemed 
to  stir.  The  snow  melted  rapidly,  and  before  the  middle 
of  the  afternoon  it  was  a  veritable  slush;  and  I  slowly 
spattered  through  it. 

About  3  P.  M.,  as  I  passed  through  a  gap  that  separated 
quite  a  flat-top  from  the  main  plateau  I  saw,  first  opposite 
a  bend  in  the  river  and  off  to  my  left,  and  fully  a  mile  or 
more  out  from  the  river  and  on  the  north  side,  I  being  on 
the  south  side,  what  I  at  first  took  to  be  tents.  Yes.  I 
was  sure  I  saw  tents.  That  meant  to  me  soldiers  and  full 
rations. 

Then  I  felt  hungry!    Oh,  so  hungry!    The  sight  seemed 


74  THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

to  stimulate  me,  and  I  moved  on  down  the  river  until  I 
came  opposite  the  same  objects,  but  they  now  looked 
altogether  different.  I  could  not  make  out  what  I  had 
first  seen ;  but  I  did  see  in  the  north  and  west  a  dark-blue 
cloud  near  the  horizon,  rapidly  rising. 

Here  the  bluff  came  down  close  to  the  river,  dropping 
down  in  benches  with  a  narrow  sandy  bottom.  I  went 
down  near  the  river  to  where  there  was  a  rack-heap  or 
pile  of  driftwood;  and,  evening  coming  on,  I  selected  a 
place  between  two  sand  ridges  and  built  a  fire.  Where  I 
built  it  it  was  not  more  than  fifty  feet  from  the  water's 
edge,  which  was  very  shallow,  just  barely  a  thin  sheet 
of  water,  the  channel  running  against  the  north  bank. 
After  I  had  gotten  the  fire  to  burning  good,  I  went  back 
up  on  the  bench  of  land,  to  where  I  c'ould  see  over  to  the 
objects  that  had  attracted  my  attention  so  much,  and 
just  as  the  sun  was  disappearing  behind  the  hills  the  blue 
cloud  had  settled  back.  Not  definitely  making  out  what 
any  of  the  objects  were,  I 'went  back  to  the  fire. 

Just  then  I  heard  the  sound,  as  if  it  were  an  ax,  in  the 
direction  I  had  been  looking.  It  was  repeated  several 
times,  and  then  all  was  silence.  Soon  it  began  to  turn 
very  cold,  and  by  morning  had  frozen  the  river,  in  the 
shallow  places  along  the  bars.  There  was  no  grass  where 
I  built  the  fire.  I  had  made  it  in  a  basin  between  two 
sand  ridges;  and  when  it  had  burned  to  a  bed  of  coals 
I  took  the  end-gate  of  a  wagon,  which  I  found  in  the 
driftwood,  and  separated  the  coals  to  right  and  left,  to 
some  little  distance  from  the  fire-bed.  Then  I  built  two 
fires  and  stretched  myself  out  in  the  original  warm  fire- 
bed  between  the  two  fires.  I  was  resting,  but  could  not 
sle^p  for  hours, — or  so  it  seemed  to  me.  I  kept  turning 
from  side  to  side,  at  first  on  account  of  the  heat  in  the 


STORY   OF   THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  75 

sand  under  me;  then  I  would  get  up  from  time  to  time 
and  replenish  the  fires. 

Finally  I  fell  into  a  dreamy  slumber,  from  which  I  would 
suddenly  arouse,  and  at  one  time  in  the  night,  when  I 
became  thoroughly  awakened,  I  was  fully  five  rods  from 
the  fire.  This  gave  me  much  concern.  I  had  dreamed 
that  some  one  wanted  my  bed  and  had  driven  me  away 
from  it,  and  I  must  have  left  my  bed  while  I  was  asleep. 

Here  I  uttered  the  first  word  I  had  heard  since  leaving 
the  camp  of  the  Mexicans.  "No,"  I  said;  ''I  am  here 
alone." 

It  was  very  cold,  and  I  judged  by  the  Dipper,  that 
grand  old  night  clock  of  the  hunter  and  cowboy,  that  it 
would  soon  be  morning:  and  to  my  intense  delight  it 
was  but  a  short  time  until  I  heard  a  rooster  crow.  The 
sound  came  from  the  object  I  had  previoasly  seen,  and 
the  place  from  where  I  had  heard  the  strokes  of  the  axe. 
Again  and  again  that  welcome  sound  came  to  my  ears, 
and  two  miles  away,  as  I  soon  learned.  Then  just  at  good 
broad  daylight,  I  heard  the  bark  of  a  dog. 

I  picked  up  a  strong  cottonwood  stick  about  eight  feet 
long  and  three  inches  in  diameter  and  started  for  the 
river.  The  ice  at  the  margin  for  three  or  four  steps  bore 
my  weight.  I  would  use  the  stick  for  two  purposes: 
when  the  ice  would  no  longer  hold  me  up,  I  would  with 
the  stick  break  it  ahead  until  I  got  to  the  main  channel; 
then  I  would  use  it  for  a  sounding-pole,  step  by  step  reach- 
ing ahead  and  thrusting  it  to  the  bottom.  The  water  was 
about  100  feet  wide  from  shore  to  bar,  and  ran  from  sheet 
water  to  three  feet  in  depth  at  the  north  bank,  which  was 
a  cut  bank,  the  top  of  which  was  nearly  three  feet  above 
the  surface  of  the  water.  Placing  both  hands  on  top  of 
the  bank,  I  pulled  myself  up  and  had  both  elbows  on  the 


76  THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

bank,  wriggling  myself  to  get  one  knee  up  on  the  bank, . 
when  my  hat  dropped  into  the  water.     In  easing  back  I 
let  go  too  soon,  and  was  nearly  submerged.     I  got  the 
hat,  and  waded  down-stream  nearly  200  yards  before  I 
found  a  place  where  I  could  get  out. 

After  getting  up  on  the  bank  I  struck  out  as  rapidly  as 
my  strength  would  permit.  After  going  about  a  mile  I 
saw  a  horseman  coming  from  the  west  as  fast  as  his  horse 
could  run.  He  rode  up  to  the  objects  that  had  attracted 
my  attention  the  afternoon  before,  and  soon  two  men  on 
foot  came  out,  and  all  ran  toward  me.  I  kept  my  speed 
up  to  the  limit  until  we  met.  I  noticed  they  all  had  guns 
and  were  excited.  The  horseman  was  the  coolest  one 
of  the  party.  I  said,  ''Don't  get  uneasy,  men;  I'm  all 
right.     I've  been  lost." 

The  two  men  afoot  handed  their  guns  to  the  man  that 
was  mounted.  Then,  getting  on  either  side  of  me,  each 
one  took  a  Ufting  hold  under  each  of  my  arms  to  assist 
me.  I  said,  ''Oh,  no,  gentlemen — I  am  not  that  bad 
off;"  but  they  clung  to  me.  "George,"  said  the  old 
man,  "You  ride  ahead  quick  and  tell  Mother  to  have 
the  coffee  hot." 

My  first  question  was,  "What  place  is  this?" 

"It  is  the  Adobe  Walls,"  came  the  response. 

We  were  soon  inside  the  walls,  and  a  cup  of  coffee,  one 
biscuit,  a  small  piece  of  fried  buffalo-meat,  and  about 
two  spoonfuls  of  gravy  were  set  before  me.  I  had  told 
them  I  had  eaten  nothing  since  the  fourth  morning  be- 
fore this  morning.  I  was  told  to  eat  slowly  and  sip  my 
coffee.     The  old  lady  said :  " 

"Now  we  want  you  to  have  just  all  you  can  eat  when- 
ever we  think  you  can  stand  it."  And  she  added:  "This 
is  not  new  to  us ;  two  regular  soldiers  came  to  our  place  on 


STORY   OF  THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  77 

the  Picket  Wire  [Purgatoire]  in  Colorado,  who  had  been 
lost  for  four  days,  and  it  was  all  we  could  do  to  keep 
them  from  gorging  themselves;  but  they  were  both  just 
about  crazy,  for,  after  losing  their  way,  and  getting  com- 
pletely lost,  they  lost  their  heads  and  one  of  them  never 
did  recover  his  mind." 

After  I  had  eaten  everything  placed  in  sight,  I  was  fur- 
nished with  dry  clothing,  a  large  pan  of  warm  water,  soap, 
and  towel.  A  wagon-sheet  had  been  stretched  across  a 
part  of  the  room  of  the  stockade  that  we  were  in,  and  be- 
fore going  behind  this  curtain  to  bathe  and  change  my 
clothing  I  took  a  look  at  myself  in  a  looking-glass  that 
was  handed  to  me.  I  had  not  washed  since  taking  the 
bath  in  the  pool  the  first  day  out. 

And  it  was  no  wonder  the  children,  and  older  ones,  too, 
stared  at  me  as  they  did;  for  I  really  was  a  fright.  My 
hair  was  quite  thick,  and  longer  than  I  usually  wore  it, 
not  having  had  it  cut  at  the  usual  time.  It  was  matted, 
snarled,  and  shaggy-looking.  My  mustache  was  singed; 
beard  was  two  weeks  old,  dirty,  and  full  of  grit;  my  face 
was  charcoaled;  hands  dirty  and  grimy.  My  eyes  were 
sunken  back  in  their  sockets ;  and  all  in  all  I  was  a  fright- 
ful-looking object,  and  looked  like  an  object  of  suspicion. 

Just  then  I  happened  to  remember  my  papers  that  I 
had  in  an  inside  pocket  of  my  overshirt.  Unbuttoning 
my  shirt-front  I  took  out  my  papers,  the  bottom  ends  of 
which  were  wet,  handed  them  to  the  old  man  and  said: 
"Read  those;  they  will  tell  you  who  and  what  I  am;  and 
when  I  wash  and  get  on  dry  clothes  I  will  tell  you  how  I 
came  to  be  here  in  this  fix." 

The  man  who  had  ridden  the  horse  went  ^  back  of  the 
curtain  with  me  and  said:  "Now  I'll  help  you  all  I  can." 
After  disrobing,  we  both  soaped,  lathered,  and  rinsed,  and 


78  THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

rubbed,  until  the  glow  came  all  over  the  body.  Then 
I  put  on  an  entire  suit  of  Buck  Wood's  clothes,  he  being 
about  my  size  and  build. 

By  the  time  I  got  back  into  the  presence  of  the  family, 
they  had  read  my  papers,  and  a  letter  from  U.  S.  Senator 
Preston  B.  Plumb  introducing  and  recommending  me  to 
his  cattle  partner.  Major  Hood. 

The  old  gentleman  then  said  to  me,  ''We  are  the  Wood 
family,  well  known  down  in  Arkansaw,  Texas  and  Colo- 
rado. Mr.  Cook,  this  is  my  wife."  We  shook  hands. 
^'This  is  my  oldest  son;  Buchanan  is  his  name;  this  is  his 
wife;  and  this  is  George  Simpson,  her  brother.  These 
are  the  two  oldest  girls,  Virginia  and  Georgia,  and  these 
little  ones  are  all  our  children.  We  are  on  our  way  from 
the  Picket  Wire  [Purgatoire],  near  Las  Animas,  to  Fort  Elli- 
ott. We  just  stopped  here  until  the  snow-storms  were  over, 
and  had  intended  to  pull  out  and  go  about  twelve  miles 
to-day,  but  as  it  is  we  will  lie  over  to-day  and  give  you 
a  rest." 

I  said:  ''I  certainly  appreciate  that,  and  thank  you 
ever  so  much." 

Just  then  George  Simpson  went  back  of  the  curtain  and 
brought  out  my  wet  duds.  It  was  then  that  I  first  thought 
of  my  money,  since  I  had  gotten  so  wet  and  was  so  long 
getting  out  of  the  river. 

I  said:  ''Mr.  Simpson,  I  am  afraid  my  money  is  wet. 
I  never  thought  of  it  till  now.  It's  all  currency,  but  a 
little  change.     Let's  take  it  and  see  the  condition  it's  in." 

The  purse  was  of  buckskin  and  opened  by  twisting  two 
steel  knobs.  The  bills  had  to  be  folded  twice  for  the  purs,e 
to  contain  them,  amply.  There  were  two  compartments 
in  the  pocket-book.  In  one  there  were  three  twenty- 
and  two  ten-dollar  bills.     The  other  contained  two  five- 


STORY   OF  THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  79 

dollar  bills,  a  five-dollar  gold-piece  (the  first  one   I   ever 
had),  and  one  dollar  and  sixty  cents  in  silver  coin. 

He  handed  me  the  purse,  which  was  sopping  wet.  I 
laid  it  on  the  dining-table  and  asked  Mrs.  Wood  to  please 
care  for  it,  adding,  "that  she  could  handle  the  money 
more  deftly  than  I  could."  She  complied  with  my  re- 
quest ;  took  out  the  money  and  placed  each  bill  separately 
upon  a  clean,  dry  pillow-case.  It  was  all  wet  through,  but 
the  bills  were  not  chafed,  and  she  dried  them  and  the  purse 
so  nicely  that  I  had  no  trouble  in  using  the  money.  The 
coin  I  gave  to  the  little  children,  in  spite  of  the  protests 
of  the  parents. 

After  Mrs.  Wood  had  spread  the  bills  out  to-  dry,  she 
poured  out  a  cup  of  coffee  and  gave  it  to  me,  together 
with  a  biscuit  and  a  slice  of  meat,  all  of  which  I  ate  rave- 
nously, and  asked  for  more.  She  said,  ''N-o!  you  will 
have  to  wait  a  while."  Of  course  I  submitted,  but,  I 
do  think  that  at  that  moment  I  was  hungrier  than  I  had 
been  at  any  time  since  I  had  left  the  Mexican  outfit. 

After  the  money  and  that  portion  of  my  papers  that  had 
got  wet  were  dried,  Mrs.  Wood  handed  them  to  me,  say- 
ing, "These  are  all  right  now,  and  by  to-morrow  you  will 
be  yourself  again." 

^  I  had  started  in  twice  before  to  tell  them  how  I  happened 
to  be  in  such  a  condition;  but  they  would  divert  me  by 
making  some  irrelevant  remark  about  their  horses,  or 
"Look  out,  boys,  and  see  if  you  can  see  any  buffalo,"  and 
wind  up  by  saying  they  were  anxious  to  hear  how  it  hap- 
pened, but  they  wanted  to  be  all  together  when  I  related 
it. 

The  fact  was :  I  had  laughted  outright  when  I  sat  down 
to  the  table,  when  I  first  arrived;  then  again  I  laughed 
when  putting  on  Buck's  clothes.     They  mistook  the  looks 


80  THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

of  my  eyes,  and  the  actions  of  the  two  lost  soldiers  were 
in  their  minds ;  so  they  thought  I  was  on  the  border-land 
of  daftness.    All  this  they  told  me  a  month  later. 

At  the  dinner  hour  I  ate  two  biscuits,  though  I  could 
have  eaten  ten.  They  said;  ^'  Drink  all  the  coffee  you  want 
and  to-morrow  you  can 'have  all  the  bread  and  meat  you 
can  eat." 

About  3  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  I  went  to  sleep  on  a 
bed  they  had  prepared  for  me  early  in  the.  forenoon,  be- 
hind the  curtain.  Nor  did  I  wake  up  until  seven  o'clock 
the  next  morning,  having  slept  soundly  for  sixteen  hours. 
Nor  did  I  know  for  nearly  a  month  afterward,  that  the 
three  men  had  taken  turns,  time  about,  all  night,  watch- 
ing me.  They  said  they  did  not  know  what  might  happen ; 
for  one  of  the  lost  soldiers  from  old  Fort  Bent,  on  the 
Arkansas,  had  got  up  in  the  night,  and  with  a  neck-yoke 
in  his  hands  was  striking  right  and  left  at  imaginary  foes, 
sayings  'Tome  on,  you  copper-skinned  devils;  I'm  good 
for  the  whole  Cheyenne  tribe!" 

When  I  came  out  in  the  presence  of  the  family,  Mr. 
Wood  asked  me  how  I  felt.  I  said:  '^ Splendid;  I  slept 
good  and  sound  all  night,  and  I  could  walk  forty  miles 
to-day."  The  breakfast  had  been  over  for  an  hour.  My 
breakfast  was  awaiting  me;  and,  after  taking  a  good 
wash  I  sat  down  to  a  plate  piled  up  with  biscuits",  another 
with  several  great  slices  of  tender  buffalo-meat,  stewed  , 
apples,  and  rich  milk  gravy  (they  had  three  cows  with  ^ 
them).  Strong  coffee  completed  the  ''bill  of  fare."  And  -I 
could,  and  /  did,  eat  all  I  wanted.  The  women-folks  had 
washed,  dried,  and  ironed  my  clothes. 


CHAPTER  V. 

We  Move. — Acres  of  BufiFalo. — Indian  Scare. — Killed  Two  Bears. — 
First  Wedding  in  the  Panhandle. — At  Last!— Fort  Elliott.— Meet 
Romero  and  Son. — The  Great  BuflFalo-slayer. — What  Gen.  Sheri- 
dan Said. — The  Great  Slaughter  Begun. 

We  moved  that  day  down  the  river  about  ten  miles. 
We  camped  in  a  hackbeny  and  elm  grove,  at  the  mouth  of 
a  big  coulee.  This  term  is  used  more  in  the  Dakotas  than 
in  Texas,  meaning  ravine,  draw,  canon,  arroyo, — all  these 
terms  being  nearly  synonymous.  It  was  an  ideal  camping- 
ground.  Plenty  of  wood,  water,  grass,  and  protection 
from  storms.  I  commenced  at  once  to  make  myself  use- 
ful. Buck  and  his  father's  family  camped  separately. 
Each  outfit  had  a  good  tent ;  Buck's  tent  was  ten  by  twelve 
feet,  his  father's,  twelve  by  fourteen  feet.  Simpson  lived 
with  Mr.  Wood,  senior.  Buck  and  his  wife  lived  alone. 
Buck  ihvited  me  to  make  my  home  with  him,  which  in- 
vitation I  gladly  accepted. 

The  first  thing  in  order  was  unhitching  the  team;  the 
harness  was  hung  over  each  front  wheel,  collars  hung  on 
the  front  hounds  of  the  wagon.  Then  the  grass  scalped  off 
where  the  camp-fire  was  to  be,  when  not  using  the  cook- 
stove.  Wood  was  to  be  gathered,  the  camp-fire  built, 
water  brought,  the  cooking  utensils  and  mess  box  placed 
near  the  fire,  Mrs.  Wood  getting  the  meals  and  Buck  and  I 
putting  up  the  tent,  carrying  in  the  bedding,  leveling  the 
rough  places,  and  making  down  the  beds. 

This  was  the  universal  custom  when  camping.  And  the 
sun  had  not  yet  gone  down  when  supper  was  eaten.  I 
walked  up  onto  a  little  hill,  just  back  of  our  camp,  where  I 

(81) 


82  THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

had  a  good  view  back  up  the  coulee,  to  the  north.  I  was 
not  more  than  one  hundred  yards  from  camp,  and  after 
looking  a  little  bit  to  make  sure,  I  said  in  a  strong  voice  that 
"  I  believed  I  saw  five  thousand  buffalo."  Buck,  his  father, 
and  George,  all  came  up  with  their  guns;  and  as  they 
looked  and  ejaculated  I  thought  my  estimate  very  consid- 
erate. The  old  gent  said  there  were  ten  thousand  in  sight, 
this  minute,  not  counting  those  in  the  gulches  and  ravines 
that  we  could  not  see. 

After  looking  at  them  a  short  time  we  all  went  down 
to  camp  and  held  a  council.  Buck  said  if  I  would  stay 
with  him  he  would  make  a  killing  as  long  as  it  would  pay 
to  stay;  said  he  would  give  me  30  cents  apiece  for  all  the 
buffaloes  I  would  skin  and  peg  out.  That  is  to  say :  after 
the  hides  were  brought  into  camp  and  little  holes  cut 
through  them  around  the  outer  edge  and  pegs  about  six 
inches  long,  sharpened  at  one  end  atid  driven  into  the 
ground  through  the  holes,  commencing  the  work  by  first 
driving  three  pegs  at  the  neck  end  of  the  hide,  then  going 
to  the  tail  end,  and  pulling  on  the  hide  to  a  proper  degree 
and  driving  two  pegs,  one  on  each  side  of  the  tail,  then  so  on 
all  around  it,  stretching  the  hide  in  a  proper  and  uniform 
shape.  I  told  him  I  would  stay  with  him  indefinitely 
if  I  could  get  to  where  I  could  get  some  clothes,  a  gun, 
and  plenty  of  tobacco. 

I  omitted,  previously,  to  state  that  I  was  an  inveterate 
chewer  and  smoker  at  the  time;  and  what  made  the  last 
day  of  my  pilgrimage  to  the  Adobe  Walls  worse  was,  that 
I  ran  out  of  both  chewing  and  smoking  tobacco.  I  told 
Mr.  Wood  so  the  morning  that  I  came  to  them;  told  him 
'^how  I  had  missed  my  tobacco  the  day  before.''  He  gave 
me  a  piece,  and  said  they  nearly  all  used  it,  and  had  plenty 
of  it.     But  it  did  not  taste  natural  to  me  until  this  evening. 


STORY   OF  THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  83 

I  now  briefly  gave  the  party  my  antecedents,  and  when 
I  came  to  that  part,  and  had  related  it,  of  the  last  few  days' 
experience,  they  acted  toward  me  more  like  father,  mother, 
brothers  and  sisters  than  mere  chance  acquaintances. 

George  Simpson  said:  ''111  tell  you  what  we  will  do: 
let's  hunt  here  a  few  days  until  the  bulk  of  these  buffalo 
pass,  then  you  and  I  will  take  two  of  the  horses,  some  cof- 
fee, salt,  and  a  little  flour,  and  go  back  and  get  your  gun 
and  outfit."    All  of  which  was  agreed  to. 

That  night  I  slept  soundly,  and  was  a,wakened  next 
morning  by  the  crowing  of  the  roosters.  Each  family 
had  a  coop  of  chickens.     I  got  up  feeling  well  refreshed. 

After  building  the  camp-fire.  Buck  and  his  wife  came  out 
of  the  tent.  We  all  helped  to  get  the  breakfast,  and  soon 
after  eating  it  was  light  enough  to  see  the  horses,  which  we 
soon  had  the  harness  on.  We  unloaded  the  wagon  and 
hitched  the  team  to  it.  Then,  with  a  steel,  a  ripping- 
knife  and  a  skinning-knife,  together  with  an  old  Enfield 
rifle,  I  drove  up  the  coulee  behind  Buck,  who  was  on  horse- 
back, carrying  a  50-caliber  Sharp's  rifle,  a  belt  buckled 
around  his  waist  containing  thirty-two  cartridges,  besides 
a  dozen  loose  ones  in  his  coat  pocket. 

After  going  about  a  half-mile  he  rode  down  from  a  little 
rise  he  had  gone  upon,  and  waited  for  me  to  come  up  to  him. 
When  I  came  up  he  said :  ''Now  drive  on  to  yonder  plum 
thicket,  and  go  up  on  the  bench  to  the  left  of  it  and  wait 
and  watch  for  me."  I  did  so,  and  when  I  got  there  I  saw 
that  the  buffaloes  were  in  about  the  same  position  as  they 
were  the  night  before,  only  there  were  not  so  many.  What 
breeze  there  was  came  from  the  northeast.  I  afterward 
learned  much  more  about  buffaloes  than  I  knew  then. 

I  had  not  waited  long  until  I  heard  that  loud  and  boom- 
like report  of  the  "big  fifty,"  that  I  was  to  hear  more  or 


84  THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

less  of  for  the  next  three  years.  Again  I  heard  it;  then 
'about  two  miles  west  of  where  this  report  came  from, 
pealed  out  the  same  deep  roar  and  it  came  from  George 
Simpson's  big  fifty.  Then  from  Buck  in  front  of  me  I 
heard  again  the  loud  detonating  sound,  and  I  saw  the  smoke 
as  it  floated  away  in  the  air  to  the  southwest,  and  then  for 
half  an  hour  or  more  a  desultory  firing  was  kept  up  by  both 
guns.  The  sound  from  Buck's  gun  was  much  more  dis- 
tinct than  from  George's,  the  former  being  much  closer, 
and  more  on  a  line  with  the  air-current. 

After  about  three-quarters  of  an  hour  Buck  rode  up  on 
an  eminence  in  front  of  me,  and  waved  his  hat.  I  started 
toward  him,  and  there  was  not  a  buffalo  in  sight ;  they  had 
all  hurried  back  over  the  divide  toward  Wolf  creek, — the 
same  creek  where  seven  months  after  I  picked  up  the 
brass  kettle  that  verdigris-poisoned  me. 

Coming  up  to  where  Buck  was,  he  informed  me  that  he 
had  killed  sixteen  buffalo.  I  was  thrilled  with  delight; 
whereas,  in  less  than  four  months  I  looked  upon  such  things 
as  a  matter  of  course. 

Following  Buck,  and  driving  nearly  half  a  mile  further, 
we  came  to  the  first  carcass.  One  of  the  horses  in  the  team 
was  so  frightened  at  sight  and  scent  of  the  dead  animal 
that  we  had  much  trouble  to  manage  him.  He  was  flighty 
and  nervous,  so  much  so  that  we  had  to  unhitch  and  tie 
him  to  the  wagon  while  I  skinned  the  first  buffalo.  But 
before  we  got  them  all  skinned  we  could  drive  up  to  the 
side  of  a  carcass,  and  he  would  pay  no  attention  to  it.  We 
thought  that  the  quiet,  sedate  manner  in  which  his  mate 
acted  had  made  him  ashamed  of  himself. 

Buck  had  skinned  a  few  buffaloes  in  Colorado,  and  to 
me  at  that  time  he  seemed  like  an  expert.  But  in  four 
months  I  could  double-discount  him.     I  would  not  attempt 


STORY   OF  THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  85 

to  tell  the  different  positions  and  attitudes  I  placed  myself 
in  that  day.  Suffice  to  say,  I  got  the  hides  off  from  ten 
of  them,  and  when  we  got  to  camp,  about  four  o'clock  in 
the  evening,  I  was  so  stiff  and  sore  I  could  hardly  get  out 
of  the  wagon.  While  I  was  skinning  the  first  buffalo, 
Buck  rode  out  in  the  direction  where  George  Simpson  had 
been  shooting  and  got  back  a  little  after  I  had  started  in 
on  the  second  one. 

These  carcasses  were  strung  out  at  even  intervals  for 
half  a  mile,  in  the  direction  that  all  the  others  went,  viz., 
northeast.  Some  had  turned  to  right  and  left  of  the  line  of 
travel.  Buck  skinned  two  of  the  carcasses  while  I  was 
taking  the  hide  from  one.  He  would  ride  over  the  breaks 
of  the  coul^  and  be  gone  for  an  hour  or  so  and  come  back 
and  skin  two  more,  then  off  again  in  some  other  direction. 
And  when  I  was  skinning  my  tenth  carcass  he  came  back 
and  skinned  the  two  remaining  ones. 

We  took  the  hump  from  both  sides  of  the  hump  ribs, 
of  all  the  carcasses.  In  taking  out  the  hump  we  inserted 
the  knife  at  the  coupling  of  the  loin,  cutting  forward  down 
the  lower  side,  as  far  forward  as  the  perpendicular  ribs 
ran;  then,  starting  at  the  loin  again,  would  cut  down  on 
the  upper  side ;  then,  taking  hold  of  the  end  of  the  piece, 
would  cut  and  hold  off  a  little,  running  the  knife  as  before, 
down  the  upper  side, — thus  taking  out  a  strip  from  a 
full-grown  animal  about  three  feet  long  and  widening  and 
being  thicker  as  it  went  forward,  and  near  the  front  of  the 
hump  ribs  it  would  as  a  rule  be  ten  or  twelve  inches  wide 
and  four  or  five  inches  thick.  When  first  taken  out  and 
when  hung  up  for  a  couple  of  days  with  the  big  end  down, 
it  became  shrunken,  or  ''set,''  as  we  termed  it.  It  also 
became  tender  and  brittle,  with  no  taint.    The  front  end 


5D  THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

had  a  streak  of  lean  and  fat  alternating,  and  when  fried 
in  tallew  made  a  feast  for  the  gods. 

I  had  left  the  camp  that  morning  without  taking  any 
drinking-water  with  me,  and  was  very  thirsty  nearly  all 
day,  which  seemed  to  contribute  toward  weakening  me. 
But  by  quenching  my  thirst,  lying  down  a  few  minutes, 
then  eating  a  hearty  meal,  with  strong  coffee,  and  by 
stretching  and  working  my  arms  and  lower  limbs,  I  was 
ready  for  the  pegging-out  of  the  hides,  and  before  it  was 
too  dark  to  see  how  to  strike  a  peg  I  had  the  sixteen  hides 
pegged  out  and  three  dollars  earned  before  going  to  bed, 
for  the  ten  buffaloes  that  I  had  skinned  and  pegged  out. 

We  reloaded  the  empty  shells  from  the  day's  shooting, 
fifty-one  in  all,  or  a  little  over  an  average  of  three  shots 
to  the  animal.  Some  were  killed  with  one  shot,  some  two, 
some  three,  and  one  with  five  shots.  Others  went  off 
with  the  herd,  carrying  lead  in  their  bodies. 

Each  hunter  carried  in  his  ammunition-box  a  reloading 
outfit,  consisting  of  bullet  molds,  primer  extractor,  swedge, 
tamper,  patch-paper,  and  lubricator.  After  reloading  the 
shells  we  went  to  bed  and  to  sleep. 

I  awoke  the  next  morning  rested,  and  eager  for  the  hunt. 
I  had  thought  when  coming  in  with  the  hides  to  the  camp 
the  evening  before  that  I  would  have  to  give  up  the  job. 
But  if  anything  I  was  now  more  anxious  than  ever  to  go 
on  the  hunt.  Buck  and  his  father  went  up  on  the  little 
hill  to  look  the  opuntry  over,  while  I  was  hitching  up  the 
team.  When  they  came  back  they  reported  that  a  few 
buffaloes  were  in  sight,  in  scattering  bands,  and  that  a 
few  were  close  to  camp.  Buck  advised  me  to  not  hitch 
up  at  present  and  said :  ^'I  wish  you  would  cut  four  strong 
forks  and  four  cross-arms  [giving  me  the  dimensions], 
drive  the  forks  into  the  ground  here  [indicating  the  place], 


STORY   OF   THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  87 

and  when  we  come  into  camp  to-night  I'll  fasten  a  hide  in- 
side the  frame  and  we  will  have  a  vat  to  salt  the  humps  in 
SO  we  can  dry  them." 

Alas!  for  plans.  JBefore  I  had  gotten  quite  through 
the  work  assigned  me,  I  heard  shooting  up  the  coulee, 
five  or  six  shots  in  rapid  succession. 

A  short  interval  and  boom!  boom!  again;  and  when 
he  had  fired  about  twenty  rounds,  at  longer  or  shorter  in- 
tervals, here  there  came  down  and  out  of  the  coulee,  about 
thirty  head  of  old  stub-horn  bulls,  going  at  their  lumber- 
ing, nodding  gait,  passing  to  within  100  feet  of  where 
our  camp  was. 

I  was  near  the  wagon ;  the  Enfield  was  in  the  front  end 
of  it,  and  the  cartridge-belt  around  my  waist.  I  hurried 
for  the  gun,  put  in  a  cartridge,  and  ran  out  toward  them, 
dropping  my  right  knee  on  the  ground,  took  aim  at  the 
leader,  and  gave  him  a  paunch  shot  ranging  forward. 
Then  I  saw  the  rear  of  the  herd  was  being  followed  by  one 
with  its  right  front  leg  broken  and  flapping.  I  aimed  at 
him  at  the  regulation  place  that  I  had  heard  Buck,  George 
and  the  old  man  Wood  say  was  the  proper  place  to  hit 
a  buffalo  with  a  side  shot,  which  would  be  a  place  any- 
where inside  of  a  circle  as  large  as  a  cowboy's  hat,  just 
back  of  the  shoulderblade.  And  here  was  where  I  plunked 
him,  and  in  much  less  time  than  it  takes  to  tell  it,  the  pale, 
frothy  blood  blubbered  out  of  his  nostrils,  he  made  a  few 
lurches  and  fell  over — dead. 

By  this  time  the  one  I  had  '^paunched"  fell  out  to  the 
left  and  stopped,  while  the  rest  seemed  to  increase  their 
speed,  with  that  characteristic  motion,  loping  and  bowing 
their  great  foreheads,  their  chin  mops  of  long  hair  fairly 
sweeping  the  ground  as  their  heads  came  dowii,  in  their 
up-and-down  motion.     They  all  passed  on  out  of  range 


88  THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

of  the  Enfield,  and  the  first  one  I  had  shot  lay  down  on 
his  hunkers  and  died  in  that  position. 

Soon  Buck  came  riding  out  of  the  coulee  and  reported 
that  he  had  killed  four  buffaloes  and  broken  one's  leg  that 
had  got  away. 

''Not  much  he  didn't,"  said  his  wife;  ''Mr.  Cook  killed 
him  with  the  old  needle-gun,"  which  term  was  used  to 
designate  all  trap-door  breech-blocks,  "and  another  be- 
sides," she  added.  He  had  not  yet  seen  the  carcasses, 
although  they  were  lying  in  plain  sight  on  the  short  grass, 
the  farthest  one  not  more  than  200  yards  away. 

When  he  saw  them  and  me  with  the  old  gun  yet  in  my 
hands,  he  said,  "Well,  I'll  be  darned!  I've  threatened 
to  throw  that  old  gun  away  several  times,  but  I'm  glad, 
now,  I  didn't." 

We  took  the  team  and  drove  up  the  coulee  to  where 
the  first  bull  had  been  killed,  keeping  the  other  three  he 
had  killed  in  sight.  As  we  passed  them  Buck  remarked 
that  "these  old  stub-horns  are  harder  to  skin  than  cows,*^ 
which  we  had  the  day  before,  "and  I  thought  I'd  help 
you  with  them,  as  I  saw  that  you  were  pretty  near  played 
out  yesterday." 

Before  we  got  the  first  hide  off,  we  heard  some  one 
calling.  Upon  looking  up  we  saw  the  women  and  chil- 
dren running  toward  us.  We  grabbed  our  guns  and  ran 
toward  them,  they  still  coming  on.  When  we  met  them 
they  were  badly  frightened,  and  told  us  that  "the  camp 
was  full  of  Indians." 

Buck  said  to  me,  "You  go  with  the  folks  back  of  the 
wagon  in  the  rough  ground  and  I  will  try  to  find  out  what 
this  me^ns." 

I  said,  "No,  I  will  not;  these  are  your  own  blood  re- 
lations.    You  have  the  best  gun  and  the  most  ammu- 


STORY   OF   THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  89 

nition.  You  can  make  a  better  fight  for  them  than  I 
can.     I'll  go  and  see  what  this  means  myself." 

Accordingly,  I  started  off  in  the  direction  of  camp,  think- 
ing that  the  women  were  '^panicky."  I  could  not  bring 
myself  to  believe  that  there  were  war  parties  out  at  that 
time  of  the  year. 

I  had  not  gone  far  when  I  met  two  soldiers  of  the  Fourth 
United  States  cavalry  riding  rapidly  up  the  coulee.  The 
first  thing  one  of  them  said,  was :  ''Where  are  those  women 
and  children?    Did  you  see  them?" 

My  answer  was,  '*Yes,  boys,  they  are  at  such  a  place 
about  now,"  pointing  in  the  direction.  One  of  them  dis- 
mounted, saying,  '*  Here,— you  get  on  this  horse,  and  go 
with  this  man  and  bring  them  to  camp,  for  there  is  more 
danger  where  they  are  than  in  camp." 

The  other  soldier  and  I  hurried  on  until  within  about 
300  yards  of  the  broken  ground,  when  I  pulled  up  and 
said: 

"Don't  let's  rush  in  there;  for  there  is  a  man  with 
them  and  he  has  a  fifty-caliber  Sharp's  and  lots  of  ammu- 
nition. They  are  comparative  strangers  to  me;  and  if 
we  lope  in  there  one  of  us  might  get  hurt  before  they  could 
take  us  for  friends.  You  stay  where  you  are;  I'll  ride 
on  slowly  a  little  farther,  and  halloo  and  try  and  attract 
their  attention  toward  me." 

He  replied:   ''All  right;  that  is  best." 

I  rode  forward  about  100  yards  and  hallooed,  "0,  Buck, 
Buck!" 

"You-pee!"  came  back  the  response.  Then  he,  the 
women  and  children,  filed  out  of  the  broken  ground  and 
came  on.  The  soldier  then  rode  up,  dismounted,  and, 
walking  along  beside  the  whole  party,  explained  the  con- 
ditibn  of  affairs. 


'90  THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

By  the  time  we  got.  to  where  Buck  and  I  had  left  the 
team,  the  soldier  who  gave  me  his  horse  was  there.  We 
hitched  up,  all  piled  into  the  wagon,  and  went  to  camp.. 
Mr.  Wood  and  Simpson  did  not  get  in  till  near  dark,  bring- 
ing in  twenty-one  hides. 

Arriving  at  camp,  we  met  a  sergeant  and  six  more 
soldiers,  making  nine  soldiers  in  all.  I  then  learned  from 
the  non-commissioned  officer  that  there  had  been  an  order 
issued  from  the  War  Department  a  few  months  before, 
that  military  escorts  would  be  furnished  to  all  Indian 
hunting  parties  in  the  future. 

This  was  for  two  purposes :  one  to  see  that  no  overt 
act  would  be  perpetrated  by  the  Indians  against  settlers 
and  other  hunters,  and  vice  versa;  and  that  this  was  a 
'^  Kiowa  hunting  party,"  mostly  young  bloods,  old  men, 
and  the  whole  squaw  outfit.  But  some  of  the  worst  of 
the  warriors  were  held  as  hostages  at  Fort  Sill. 

We  all  knew  that  the  past  summer  had  been  a  busy  one 
with  hunters,  soldiers,  and  Indians. 

It  was  the  Indian  war  of  1874.  It  was  the  year  that 
that  Spartan  band  of  buffalo  hunters,  at  the  Adobe  Walls, 
withstood  the  siege  of  all  the  able-bodied  warriors  of  the 
Cheyenne,  Arapahoe,  Kiowa  and  Comanche  tribes.  It 
was  that  summer,  on  the  Washita  divide,  that  a  mere 
apology,  in  point  of  numbers,  of  an  escort  and  train  guard 
resisted,  charge  after  charge,  with  blood-curdling  yells, 
more  than  a  thousand  of  the  best  warriors  of  the  southern 
wild  Indians.  It  was  that  summer  that  the  then  Captain, 
Adna  R.  Chaffee,  who  had  worked  his  way  up  from  a 
private  soldier,  step  by  step,  for  heroic  and  meritorious 
conduct,  to  the  position  he  then  held,  made  his  famous 
battle-field  speech,  near  the  breaks  of  the  Red  river,  when 
he  was  confronted  with  a  horde  of  painted,  war-bonneted 


STORY  OF  THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  91 

red-devils  under  old  Nigger  Horse.  He  halted  his  com- 
pany, fronted  them,  right-dressed  them,  and  said: 

''Forward,  boys!  Charge  them,  and  if  any  of  you  are 
killed  I'll  promote  you  to  corporal." 

It  was  in  this  country  that  Lieutenant  Elliott  was  killed, 
and  in  whose  honor  Fort  Elliott  was  named.  It  was  the 
summer  of  the  first  big  general  slaughter  by  an  army,  as 
it  were,  of  bold,  venturesome  hunters,  making  buffalo- 
hides  a  specialty  for  commercial  purposes. 

Was  it  any  wonder  that  the  Indians  were  mad?  And 
this  same  ground  that  we  were  camping  on  was  a  portion 
of  the  Kiowas'  favorite  hunting-grounds.  Here  their 
ancestors  had  followed  the  chase  for  ages  gone  by. 

The  sergeant  informed  us  that  there  was  a  company 
of  the  Fourth  Cavalry  with  these  Indians,  with  two  com- 
missioned officers.  They  had  broken  camp  that  morning 
very  early,  as  they  wished  to  go  down  the  river  to  the 
mouth  of  White  Deer  that  day,  and  not  make  two  camps. 
They  had  crossed  the  Canadian  river  that  morning  about 
three  miles  above  us,  having  come  in  from  the  south  the 
day  before;  and  that  runners  had  come  in  the  night  be- 
fore, who  had  been  out  scouting  for  good  hunting,  and 
had  reported  that  the  White  Deer  country  was  alive  with 
the  game  they  were  hunting.  He  also  said  that  it  was 
customary  in  moving  the  big  camp  from  place  to  place  for 
a  detail  of  soldiers  to  go  ahead  and  the  main  escort  to 
bring  up  the  rear.  He  and  his  party  had  been  assigned 
that  duty  for  that  day. 

But  Quirt  Whip  and  his  band  of  Indians  had  got  ahead 
of  them  while  they  were  getting  a  quicksanded  horse  out 
of  the  river,  and  when  Quirt  Whip  came  along  to  our  camp, 
so  Quirt  Whip  told  him,  the  women  and  children  all  fled. 
So  he  sent  an  interpreter  back  hastily  to  tell  what  had  hap- 


92  THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

pened,  and  he  and  his  men  had  hastened  on  as  fast  as  they 
could. 

I  asked  the  sergeant  why  the  interpreter  did  not  call  out 
to  the  women  and  assure  them  there  was  no  danger. 

" Because/'  said  he,  ''he  was  dressed  Uke  the  rest  and  is 
a  quarter-breed,  three-quarters  of  it  being  on  the  Indian 
side;  and  he  is  totally  devoid  of  intuition,  and  how  in 
h — 1  he  can  talk  two  languages  is  beyond  my  compre- 
hension." 

I  was  silenced.  The  sergeant  sent  two  men  ahead  to 
overtake  Quirt  Whip  and  travel  with  them  to  the  White 
Deer  camp.  All  the  time  our  conversation  was  being 
carried  on  the  Indians  were  passing  our  camp,  about  100 
yards  south  of  it,  going  in  an  easterly  direction.  It  was 
the  first  travois*  (travoyO  outfit  I  had  ever  seen, — but  by 
no  means  the  last,  as  I  will  relate  and  describe  later  on. 

Just  as  the  last  of  the  Indians  were  passing  by  and  the 
other  soldiers  were  near,  the  sergeant  and  his  men  started 
on  and  were  but  a  little  way  off,  when  suddenly  he  wheeled 
around,  galloped  back  to  the  command,  dismounted,  and 
saluted  the  officers,  who  were  all  quite  near  us.  He  seemed 
to  be  making  an  oral  report,  adding  many  gestures  to  it, 
and  pointing  toward  us  and  in  other  directions.  He  then 
remounted  and  rode  on  in  the  direction  his  comrades  had 
taken. 

The  command  turned,  left-obliqued,  came  up  to  within 
a  few  steps  of  Mr.  Wood  senior's  tent,  and  dismounted 
where  we  were  all  at  the  time.  The  first  lieutenant  was 
the  spokesman.     He  was  as  straight  as  an  arrow,  well 

*  Travois  (from  the  French) .  A  contrivance  of  two  poles  lashed  at  one  end 
to  each  side  of  a  pony,  the  other  ends  trailing  on  the  ground.  A  sort  of  sack 
made  from  skins  or  canvas,  is  lashed  to  the  cross-bars  connecting  the  two  poles. 
On  this  travois  is  carried  the  camp  equipage,  and  sometimes  a  sick  or  wounded 
person. 


STORY   OF   THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  93 

proportioned,  about  six  feet  high,  and  about  forty-five 
years  old.  He  commenced  by  making  a  courteous  bow  to 
the  ladies,  saying: 

'^Glad  to  meet  you,  ladies,  but  sorry  to  find  you  here. 
How  do  you  do,  men?  You  people  have  had  quite  a 
shake-up.  Where  did  you  come  from  and  where  are  you 
intending  to  go?" 

Mrs.  Wood,  Sr.,  being  a  ready  talker,  briefly  told  him 
who  they  were ;  where  they  came  from ;  where  they  were 
finally  going  to;  and  that  the  intention  was  to  secure 
homes  for  all  of  them  near  Fort  Elliott,  if  the  country  there 
suited  them ;  and  wound  up  by  telling  him  we  were  short 
two  men,  her  husband  and  her  daughter-in-law's  brother; 
that  they  had  gained  one  man  to  their  party  at  the  Adobe 
Walls.  He  had  been  last  several  days,  with  nothing  to 
eat,  and  was  with  them  temporarily.  She  told  him  that 
she  expected  her  husband  and  George  any  time,  and  that 
for  her  part  buffalo-hunting  had  lost  its  charms  for  her; 
that  she  would  not  pass  through  such  a  mental  strain 
and  physical  exertion  again,  as  she  had  that  morning,  for 
all  the  buffalo-hides  on  the  whole  range. 

The  officer  tbon  said,  addressing  himself  more  to  Buck 
and  myself:  •  This  is  no  place  for  these  women  and  chil- 
dren. Strong  men  can  generally  come  through  all  right, 
in  an  Indian  country ;  and  that  is  what  this  is  at  present. 
The  Cheyennes  and  Arapahoes  hunt  north  of  here;  the 
Comanches  are  hunting  south  of  here;  they,  or  these 
Kiowas,  and  a  small  party  of  young  men,  could  slip  out 
of  their  camp,  and  in  the  absence  of  you  men  murder  these 
women  and  children,  for  it  is  in  their  hearts  to  do  it.  They 
look  upon  you  as  trespassers  on  their  hunting-grounds.  I 
will  leave  a  guard  here  of  five  of  my  troopers;  and  when 
the  other  two  men  come  in  I  want  you  all  to  come  with 


94  THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

them  to  my  camp.  Be  sure  and  break  this  camp  by  to- 
morrow morning  and  follow  us." 

With  that  he  turned  around  and  said :  ''Sergeant,  detail 
five  men  with  their  bedding  and  rations,  and  instruct  them 
to  remain  with  these  people  and  bring  them  to  my  camp 
to-morrow." 

Mrs.  Wood  said,  ''No,  you  don't  need  any  rations;  we 
will  do  their  cooking  and  furnish  the  provisions  ourselves." 

The  Lieutenant  doffed  his  hat  to  her,  said  "Thank  you, 
madam,"  and  was  gone  with  his  men  of  blue. 

Buck  and  I  went  out  and  skinned  our  buffaloes ;  brought 
in  and  pegged  out  the  hides.  We  helped  his  father  and 
George  do  the  same  when  they  came  in. 

The  next  morning  we  all  pulled  out  and  went  to  White 
Deer,  stopped  our  wagons  close  to  the  soldiers'  tents,  and 
pitched  our  tents. 

The  next  morning  I  went  to  the  officer's  tent  and  told 
him  that  the  men  wished  to  go  back  after  the  hides. 

He  said :  "I'll  tell  you;  I  have  been  thinking  about  you 
people.  It  is  about  eight  miles  from  here  to  the  military 
trail  from  Fort  Dodge  to  Fort  Elliott.  There  is  less  danger 
along  that  trail  than  where  you  were.  There  were  several 
Kiowas  killed  and  wounded  at  the  old  Adobe  Walls  last 
summer.  Night  before  last,  where  we  camped,  they  held 
a  kind  of  mourning  powwow,  because  white  hunters  had 
killed  their  people.  Now  you  folks  unload  your  wagons 
and  go  back  after  the  hides,  take  them  onto  the  trail  and 
spread  them  out ;  then  come  back  here  and  get  your  out- 
fit. In  three  more  days,  I  will  move  down  to  the  Antelope 
hills,  and  camp  just  over  the  boundary-line  in  the  Indian 
Territory,  leaving  you  people  on  the  military  trail,  shifting 
all  responsibility  for  your  welfare." 

That  being  a  mandate,  we  governed  ourselves  accord- 


STORY   OF  THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  95 

ingly.  After  we  were  in  camp  a  few  days  near  the  govern- 
ment trail,  and  about  three  miles  south  of  the  Canadian 
river,  we  learned  that  there  was  a  way-station  about  a 
mile  and  a  half  north  of  the  river  crossing,  and  that  the 
proprietor  kept  hunters'  supplies  and  bought  hides. 

Buck  and  I  rode  over  to  the  place  and  found  we  were 
at  the  Springer  ranch.  It  was  built  on  the  blockhouse, 
stockade,  Indian  frontier  plan.  It  faced  south  towards 
the  river.  ,  A  square  pit  six  by  six  feet  and  six  feet  deep 
had  been  dug  inside  the  building.  Then  from  it,  leading 
south,  was  a  trench  running  outside  fifty  feet,  where  was 
dug  a  circular  pit  ten  feet  in  diameter  and  five  feet  deep. 
This  and  the  trench  were  cribbed  over  and  the  dirt  tamped 
down  over  it.  The  circular  pit  was  portholed  all  around. 
Also,  from  the  pit  inside  the  blockhouse  there  was  a  trench 
running  to  the  corral  and  stable.  The  stockade  being 
loopholed  made  the  whole  place  so  impregnable  that  a 
few  cool,  determined  men  could  make  it  impossible  for  the 
allied  tribes  to  take  it  without  artillery. 

We  traded  our  hides  to  Springer  for  provisions,  ammuni- 
tion, etc.  Here  I  was  fortunate  enough  to  get  me  two  fair 
suits  of  underwear,  stockings,  boots,  and  such  necessaries 
as  I  was  in  need  of. 

Springer  told  us  he  thought  there  was  no  danger  of  the 
Indians  bothering  us  before  spring;  thought  we  were  per- 
fectly safe  to  go  anywhere  except  to  cross  the  one-hundredth 
meridian,  which  was  the  line  between  the  Indian  Territory 
and  the  Panhandle  of  Texas.  He  said :  ''If  you  are  caught 
over  the  line  you  will  be  arrested  by  some  deputy  United 
States  Marshal  and  put  to  lots  of  trouble."  But  we  had 
no  desire  to  go  that  way  at  the  time. 

The  next  day  we  hauled  over  to  Springer  all  the  hid^s 
we  had  on  hand,  receiving  S2.50  for  the  old  bull-hides. 


96  THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

$3  for  the  choice  robe  cow-hides,  and  $1.75  each  for  all 
the  others. 

Buck  and  I  found  a  place  four  miles  southwest  of  the 
Springer  ranch,  about  two  hundred  yards  from  the  river, 
on  the  south  side,  and  at  the  mouth  of  a  dry  sand  creek, 
where  there  was  a  large  grove  of  cottonwood  timber,  and 
in  the  sand  creek  at  the  south  end  of  the  grove  were  several 
holes  of  fresh  water.  Here  we  decided  to  build  a  log 
cabin,  it  being  the  first  house  built  on  the  South  Canadian 
river,  in  the  Panhandle  of  Texas,  inhabited  by  a  pale- 
face family.  While  cutting  the  logs  and  building  this 
cabin,  we  occasionally  killed  a  straggling  buffalo,  until 
we  had  on  hand  the  day  we  moved  into  the  house  (which 
we  were  more  than  two  weeks  in  building),  thirty-one  hides. 

These  we  hauled  to  Springer,  and  while  there  we  met  a 
party  of  regular  buffalo-hunters.  They  informed  us  that 
the  great  mass  of  the  buffaloes  was  south  of  the  Red 
river,  and  that  there  would  be  no  profitable  buffalo-hunt- 
ing here  until  the  next  May  or  June.  Here  I  was  fortunate 
enough  to  buy  of  one  of  these  hunters  a  Sharp's  44-caliber 
rifle,  reloading  outfit,  belt,  and  150  shells.  The  man  had 
used  the  gun  only  a  short  time,  and  seventy-five  of  the 
shells  had  never  been  loaded.  I  got  the  gun  and  his  in- 
terest in  the  entire  buffalo  range  for  thirty-six  dollars,  he 
having  met  with  the  misfortune  of  shooting  himself  seri- 
ously, but  not  fatally,  in  the  right  side  with  the  same  gun 
which  proved  a  '' hoodoo"  to  me  as  the  hunters  afterwards 
sometimes  remarked.  It  was  an  elegant  fine-sighted 
gun,  with  buckhorn  sights. 

Wild  turkeys  were  plentiful  all  about  our  cabin,  and  were 
so  tame  that  it  was  no  trouble  at  all  to  kill  them  in  day- 
time, and  in  bright  moonlight  nights  one  could  get  up 
close  to  their  roosts,  and  by  getting  them  between  the 


STORY   OF  THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  97 

hunter  and  the  moon,  they  were  frequently  shot  from 
the  trees. 

On  the  north  side  of  the  river  from  the  cabin,  and  a 
haK-mile  or  so  from  the  river,  was  quite  a  grove  of  per- 
simmon trees,  some  of  them  twenty-five  or  thirty  feet 
high,  and  some  with  trunks  eight  inches  in  diameter. 
About  the  time  we  first  commenced  the  building  of  the 
cabin  the  fruit  must  have  been  in  its  prime,  but  when  we 
found  them  they  were  nearly  gone. 

This  particular  morning  that  we  found  it  we  had  crossed 
the  river  on  horseback  and  were  riding  north  toward  the 
hills  to  look  for  chance-  buffalo,  when  Buck's  attention 
was  attracted  toward  the  grove,  which  was  on  our  left 
about  two  hundred  yards  from  us. 

"Look!  look!  See  how  that  tree  shakes."  We  stopped, 
and  presently  saw  a  violent  trembling  or  shaking  of  an- 
other tree  some  little  distance  from  the  first.  '^John,'^ 
said  he,  "that's  a  'simmon  grove  and  that's  a  bear  in 
there." 

We  had  seen  bear-tracks  along  the  river-bars  several 
times  while  building  the  cabin.  He  told  me  to  keep 
aroimd  the  right  of  the  grove  between  it  and  the  hills. 

Said  he:  "I'll  keep  to  the  left  between  it  and  the  river; 
we  will  ride  slow,  and  if  he  breaks  out  you  play  it  to  him. 
You  can  shoot  off  Barney  [the  horse  I  was  riding]  all  right. 
He  stands  good ;  I've  killed  many,  a  deer  off  from  him  up 
on  the  Picket  Wu^." 

When  we  parted  he  said:  "Now,  John,  let's  be  care- 
ful, and  don't  let's  shoot  one  another." 

I  rode  quartering  toward  the  grove,  and  on  my  left  I 
caught  sight  of  a  bear  with  its  head  from  me.  I  stopped, 
cocked  my  gun,  had  my  trigger  finger  inside  the  trigger- 
guard,  and  was  raising  the  gun  to  take  aim,  when  old 


98  THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

Barney  gave  a  snort,  whirled  so  quickly  that  I  and  the 
gun  both  went  off,  the  bullet  presumably  striking  the 
ground  just  a  little  ahead  of  me,  and  for  the  next  twenty 
or  more  minutes  it  was  the  most  exciting,  busy  and  laugh- 
able hunts  for  game  I  ever  experienced. 

I  had  fallen  forward  on  my  face.  The  muzzle  of  the 
gun  struck  the  ground  first  and  got  sand  in  it.  I  was  on 
my  feet  instantly,  and  picked  up  the  gun;  threw  down 
the  breech-block,  and  soon  had  aim.  Then  I  saw  that 
Buck  was  riding  up  rapidly  between  myself  and  the  grove, 
and  quite  close  to  it.  I  rushed  forward,  and,  crossing 
Buck's  track  in  behind  his  horse,  I  got  a  good  shot  at  the 
bear  and  broke  his  back.  There  was  no  underbrush  in 
the  grove,  and  what  grass  there  was  was  literally  tramped 
down,  and  one  could  see  clear  through  the  grove  from 
any  direction. 

At  report  of  the  gun  Buck  turned  his  horse  around, 
and  just  as  I  shot  the  second  time  he  shot  at  another  bear 
that  had  broken  from  cover  and  was  running  for  the  hills. 
My  second  shot  killed  the  bear  that  I  was  after.  Buck's 
first  shot  went  wild. 

Seeing  that  the  first  bear  was' safe,  I  ran  on  north  through 
the  scattering  trees ;  but  before  I  had  gotten  to  the  north 
end  of  the  persimmon  grove.  Buck  had  fired  twice  more, 
and  when  I  came  in  full  view  of  the  bear  it  was  nearly 
three  hundred  yards  away  and  going  north,  with  Buck  a 
close  second.  He  would  stop  and  shoot  about  every  one 
hundred  yards;  but  could  not  get  his  horse  to  run  onto 
the  bear.  Every  time  he  would  get  up  anywise  close  to 
it  his  horse  would  shy  off. 

After  running  and  shooting  four  or  five  times  this  way 
he  flanked  his  horse  to  the  right  and  put  him  to  his  full 
speed.    After  passing  the  bear  he  circled  in  toward  him. 


STORY   OF   THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  99 

They  were  then  nearly  a  mile  off,  and  close  to  the  hills. 
When  he  got  as  close  as  he  thought  he  could  get  the  horse 
to  the  bear,  he  checked  up  and  dismounted;  dropping 
one  knee  to  the  ground,  he  fired,  and  as  he  afterwards  told 
me  he  was  not  over  eight  yards  from  Bruin. 

The  moment  Buck  dismounted  his  horse  bolted,  and 
struck  for  the  cabin.  When  the  horse  passed  near  me  he 
was  straining  every  muscle  to  its  fullest  tension.  The 
saddle  stirrups  were  flapping  and  seeming  to  keep  time  to 
the  motion.  I  only  took  a  hurried  glance  at  '^Doc,"  as 
the  horse  was  called,  as  he  passed  by,  then  looking  toward 
the  bear  and  Buck,  saw  they  were  both  coming  toward 
me  just  behind  in  the  edge  of  the  persimmon  grove  there 
was  a  tree  that  forked.  About  six  feet  from  there  another 
one  was  leaning  considerably  grown  up  thi-pugh  the  fork. 
I  retreated  to  this  place  and  got  up  in  the  crotch  and  by 
leaning  my  back  against  one  of  the  forks  and  with  both 
feet  on  the  leaning  tree,  which  was  about  five  inches  in 
diameter,  my  weight  would  press  it  down  solid  in  the 
crotch,  which  gave  me  fair  footing;  then  by  peering  out 
through  the  small  limbs  and  twigs  I  could  observe  all 
that  was  going  on. 

The  bear  was  nearly  a  quarter  of  9,  mile  ahead  of  Buck, 
and  was  going  along  leisurely,  and  every  now  and  then 
would  look  back.  Buck  was  in  a  kind  of  dog-trot,  and 
every  few  rods  would  stop,  shoot,  and  come  on.  When 
the  bear  was  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  yards  from  the 
grove  he  turned  a  little  to  the  right,  which  pleased  me,  for 
I  had  begim  to  get  uneasy  for  fear  a  spent  ball  from  the 
pursurer's  gun  might  hit  me.  As  the  animal  turned  I 
noticed  his  tongue  was  lolling,  and  that  he  was  badly 
wounded.  I  pointed  the  gun  toward  him,  and,  watching 
to  get  the  best  chance,  I  shot  through  twigs  and  all.     At 


100         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

the  crack  of  the  gun  the  bear  turned  east  and  got  on  a 
line  between  Buck  and  me. 

He  had  now  gained  on  the  wounded  animal  so  much 
that  he  was  not  more  than  two  hundred  yards  behind  it. 
He  called  out,  ''Don't  shoot!"  I  answered  back,  ''Don't 
you  shoot!"  The  bear  was  then  going  very  slowly,  and 
Buck  now  coming  as  fast  as  he  could  trot. 

By  the  time  he  had  come  up  to  within  a  hundred  feet 
of  it  it  had  passed  out  of  line  of  me,  when  I  said,  "Here 
I  am.  Buck,  in  a  tree.  I  think  it  safe  for  you  to  shoot 
now.     The  twigs  are  so  thick  I  can't  get  a  bead  on  him." 

As  the  report  of  the  gun  died  away  the  bear  lay  down 
and  gave  up  the  struggle.  Whether  from  the  last  shot  or 
pure  exhaustion  from  loss  of  blood  from  its  other  wounds, 
we  were  not  able  to  say.  I  got  down  out  of  my  perch  and 
we  both  met  by  the  dead  bear. 

Buck  asked,  "Where  is  Barney?" 

I  asked,  "Where  is  Doc?" 

Here  we  were,  both  afoot  and  the  river  between  us  and 
the  cabin.  The  sight  and  scent  of  the  bears  had  thrown 
both  horses  in  a  panic,  and  it  was  sheer  fright  that  had 
caused  them  to  bolt.  We  decided  to  skin  the  bears,  hang 
the  hides  and  meat  up  in  the  trees,  go  down  opposite  the 
cabin,  and  call  for  Mrs.  Wood  to  bring  the  horses  over  to 
us. 

The  bears  were  the  common  black  species  which  were 
frequently  found  in  that  region.  South  of  there,  in  the 
Brazos  river  breaks,  they  were  very  numerous.  The  two 
were  in  fine  condition,  a  male  and  female,  and  would 
weigh  something  like  six  hundred  pounds  for  the  male  and 
five  hundred  pounds  for  the  female. 

After  dressing  them  we  started  for  the  river.  As  we 
were  approaching  and  nearly  opposite  the  camp,  we  saw 


STORY   OF  THE   SOUTHWEST  PLAINS.  101 

Mrs.  Wood  riding  up  to  the  bank  from  the  home  side. 
She  was  riding  the  horse  we  had  left  in  camp.  She  crossed 
over  to  US,  and  told  us  that  "  Barney '^  and  '^Doc"  were 
both  scared,  and  trembled  so  that  she  could  not  lead  them. 
Said  she  knew  where  we  were  all  the  time  by  the  shooting, 
and  thought  she  would  bring  Dave  over  to  us  so  we  could 
ford  the  river.  Wood  and  his  wife  crossed  over;  then 
he  came  back  for  me,  and  soon  we  were  at  the  cabin. 

After  washing  the  blood  from  our  hands  we  went  to  the 
saddle-horses,  and  soon  calmed  their  fears.  Then,  mount- 
ing them,  we  led  Dave,  took  ropes  along  to  pack  with, 
and  went  back  for  our  meat  and  hides.  When  we  again 
got  near  the  place  Doc  and  Barney  snorted  and  shied  and 
trembled  from  fear, — so  much  so  that  we  were  compelled 
to  go  back  toward  the  river  and  fasten  them  to  some  bushes. 

But  Dave,  good  old  sensible  Dave,  l\ad  no  fear  what- 
ever. We  led  him  right  up  to  the  carcasses,  and  packed 
the  hides  and  such  of  the  meat  as  we  cared  to  take.  Then 
Buck  sent  me  on  ahead  to  loosen  and  get  on  one  of 
the  saddle-horses,  and  to  hold  the  other  until  he  came 
along. 

AVhen  I  commenced  to  untie  them  they  snorted,  jerked, 
and  trembled  violently ;  but  I  finally  succeeded  in  getting 
them  both  loose.  Mounting  Barney,  I  held  Doc  by  the 
bridle-rein.  When  they  saw  Buck,  Dave  and  the  pack 
coming  they  held  their  heads  high,  and  stared  at  the  outfit 
until  they  came  too  close  for  them  to  stand  it  any  longer 
when  instantly  they  bolted  again.  Soon  I  had  to  let  go  of 
Doc's  rein,  and  away  he  went  for  home.  I  circled  Barney 
around  the  pack  twice,  he  shying  off  all  the  time. 

Finally  Buck  said:  '^Let  me  get  on  him,  John;  there 
is  no  sense  in  his  acting  that  way.  When  we  get  to  camp 
I'll  teach  him  and  Doc  both  to  pack  bear-hides." 


102         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

.  I  dismounted  and  traveled  on  toward  camp  with  faith- 
ful old  Dave.  Buck  struck  out  for  home,  and  when  I  and 
Dave  came  to  the  river  I  led  him  down  the  bank  and  started 
him  across.  The  water  was  near  three  feet  deep  for  about 
fifty  feet;  then  it  shallowed  down  to  a  mere  nothing  on 
the  south  side. 

The  weather  was  then,  and  for  the  past  three  weeks 
had  been,  bright  and  pleasant.  But  the  water  was  cold. 
So  I  sat  down  on  the  bank  to  wait  for  Buck  to  come  back. 
Sensible  old  Dave  went  on  into  camp.  The  river-bottom 
from  the  river  to  within  about  five  rods  of  camp  was  cov- 
ered with  thick  buck-brush,  plum,  and  scattering  cotton- 
wood.  Just  as  Dave  was  coming  out  of  this  thicket  Wood 
was  starting  in,  and  when  the  horses  saw  him  and  the  pack 
they  flew 'the  track  as  usual,  and  he  let  them  shy  off  and 
around,  being  in  a  hurry  to  get  me  across  the  river,  which 
was  soon  done. 

I  have  dwelt  at  some  length  on  this  incident,  for  two 
reasons :  one  is  to  dispose  of  the  idea  that  bears  hibernate, 
or  go  into  their  holes  and  cave  up  in  winter  and  never 
come  out  until  spring;  the  other,  as  I  had  been  told  in 
boyhood,  that  all  horses  would  tremble  and  run  at  sight 
or  scent  of  bear.  We  talked  of  this  a  good  deal  at  the  time. 
It  surprised  me  when  Buck  intimated  that  those  trees 
were  being  shaken  by  bears,  the  time  then  being  after 
mid-December.  Buck  informed  me  that  in  that  climate 
it  was  so  near  spring  and  the  weather  being  fine,  it  was  only 
natural  for  them  to  be  out  if  they  had  ''holed  up"  at  all; 
and  he  doubted  that  they  had  done  so,  saying  that  ''in 
Arkansas  he  had  known  them  to  be  out  every  month  of 
the  year." 

We  both  felt  sorry  for  Barney  and  Doc,  they  were  so 
badly  frightened  and  could  not  help  it. 


STORY   OF  THE    SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  103 

Wood  had  been  feeding  his  horses  a  quart  of  oats  apiece 
every  night,  as  he  claimed  that  would  accustom  them  to 
camp,  so  that  no  matter  where  he  roamed,  the  horses  would 
always  feel  at  home  where  the  camp  was.  We  spread  a 
bear-hide  down  on  the  ground,  where  we  fed  the  horses 
and  poured  out  their  feed  as  usual  that  evening,  on  a  tar- 
paulin close  by  the  hide;  but  the  two  would  not  come  to 
it.  Dave  walked  up  and  helped  himself  to  his  share.  We 
then  took  up  the  rest  of  the  oats  and  repeated  this  until  the 
fourth  evening,  when  the  other  two  ventured  up  and  ate  their 
grain.  In  a  few  days'  time  they  would  both  allow  us  to 
place  the  hides  on  their  backs.     Seemingly  all  fear  had  gone. 

At  the  time  we  decided  to  build  our  cabin  Mr.  Wood, 
senior,  and  Simpson  decided  that  they  would  pull  on  to 
Fort  Elliott  and  get  all  the  information  they  could  about 
the  countr}^  in  general  and  the  Sweet  Water  country  in 
particular;  and  if  they  could  find  what  they  wanted  near 
the  garri.son  they  would  locate,  and  consider  hunting  after- 
ward. We  all  bade  each  other  a  hearty  good-by,  they 
taking  the  trail  for  the  fort. 

We  heard  nothing  of  or  from  them  until  a  few  days  after 
we  killed  the  bears.  The  day  we  hpard  of  them  we  had  all 
been  away  from  the  cabin.  All  had  gone  on  horseback, 
and  we  had  ridden  south  from  camp  and  gone  up  on  the 
divide  between  the  Canadian  and  Washita  rivers. 

We  had  killed  and  skinned  the  only  two  buffaloes  we  had 
seen.  I  made  the  remark,  as  we  were  on  our  road  home, 
that  I  thought  that  we  were  *'in  a  poor  locality  for  even 
stragglers." 

Buck  said:  ''Yes;  and  if  fair  hunting  doesn't  show  up 
pretty  soon,  I'll  begin  to  think  that  there  will  be  no  hunt- 
ing here  until  June,  as  we  were  told  at  Springer's;  and 
maybe  we'd  better  put  south." 


104         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

As  we  came  in  sight  of  the  cabin,  we  saw  a  covered  wagon 
drawn  up  in  front  of  the  door.  We  were  all  delighted, 
excited,  and  speculated  as  to  whom  it  could  be,  and  what 
it  meant.  We  were  soon  enlightened,  for  on  coming  up 
to  the  cabin,  we  were  met  by  George  Simpson  and  Vir- 
ginia, she  that  was  formerly  Virginia  Wood,  but  now  Mrs. 
Simpson. 

This  couple  the  day  before  had  been  married  at  Fort 
Elliott,  by  the  post  adjutant.  They  had  taken  their  wed- 
ding tour  in  a  two-horse  Bain  wagon,  over  the  virgin  soil 
of  the  Panhandle  of  Texas,  to  our  humble  but  hospitable 
abode,  to  spend  their  honeymoon.  So  I  was  in  the  pres- 
ence of  the  first  couple  that  was  married  in  the  Panhandle. 

That  evening,  around  our  fireside,  I  began  to  get  some 
idea  of  the  magnitude  of  the  slaughter  of  poor  Lo's  com- 
missary. George  told  us  of  having  been  at  the  fort,  where 
there  was  a  large,  well-stocked  sutler's  store,  and  that  at  a 
place  called  Sweet  Water,  on  the  Sweet  Water  creek,  three 
miles  below  the  fort,  Charles  Roth  and  Bob  Wright  had 
a  large  store,  carrying  all  kinds  of  hunters'  supplies,  and 
they  had  acres  of  high  piles  of  hides;  that  it  was  a  wild 
and  woolly  place,  having  a  large  dance-hall,  two  restau- 
rants, three  saloons,  small  and  large  hunting  outfits  com- 
ing and  going;  generally,  from  ten  to  fifteen  outfits  there 
nearly  every  day;  that  the  great  masses  of  buffalo  were 
south  of  the  Red  river,  fifty  miles  south  of  there,  and  still 
moving  south;  that  they  would  keep  going  gradually 
south,  until  by  ancient  custom -they  turned  north;  that 
they  were  expected  to  be  back  there  in  May  on  their  way 
north;  that  all  the  hunters  were  going  to  follow  the  herds 
to  Red,  Pease,  and  Brazos  rivers. 

He  said  that  the  story  of  my  being  lost  was  a  general 
subject  of  talk  among  the  hunters  and  soldiers,  and  that 


STORY   OF  THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  105 

it  had  been  exaggerated  and  told  in  different  versions  so 
that  he  could  hardly  get  them  to  accept  the  facts  as  I  had 
told  them  in  detail  to  the  Wood  family.  One  story  was, 
that  I  had  been  gone  twenty  days,  with  nothing  to  eat. 
He  informed  us  that  old  man  Wood  had  located  a  place 
near  the  head  of  Gageby  creek,  ten  miles  northeast  of  Fort 
Elliott,  and  was  cutting  logs  to  build  a  house ;  and  that  he 
wanted  Buck  and  me  to  come  and  get  land  by  him,  help 
build  his  house,  and  start  the  building-up  of  a  community. 

So  we  talked  the  matter  over  for  two  days,  and  then 
pulled  out  for  Gageby,  in  due  time  arriving  there  and 
looking  the  country  over  for  a  few  days. 

George  Simpson  and  myself  fitted  out  to  go  and  find 
the  Mexican  camp,  and  the  people  I  had  come  from  New 
Mexico  with.  I  was  anxious  to  get  a  War  Department 
map  before  going  back  to  the  Owa  Sula  or  Blue  Water. 
So  Buck  and  I  rode  to  the  fort.  As  is  a  rule  at  military 
frontier  posts,  we  reported  at  the  adjutant's  office  and 
registered  our  names,  whence  we  came,  and  whither  des- 
tined. When  I  asked  for  the  map  the  commanding  officer, 
who  was  present,  asked  what  I  wanted  it  for.  I  told  him 
"I  had  made  the  mistake  of  being  lost  between  the  Blue 
Water  and  the  Adobe  Walls;"  and  before  I  could  proceed 
with  the  reason  why  I  wanted  the  map  he  called  me  inside 
the  railing  that  partitioned  off  the  office  from  the  waiting- 
room,  and  said: 

"Be  seated.  Now  tell  us  all  about  that  affair.  We  have 
heard  different  stories.     Now  I  want  it  at  first  hand.'' 

After  commencing  at  the  time  I  left  my  father's  house 
in  Johnson  county,  Kansas,  I  detailed  my  movements 
up  to  the  time  I  was  in  his  presence.  I  finished  by  tell- 
ing him  that  so  far  as  the  gun,  bedding  and  clothing  that 
I  had  at  the  Mexican  camp  were  concerned,  I  was  not 


106         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

particular  about  them.  But  I  had  some  papers  in  the 
outfit  that  were  valuable.  He  asked  me  the  nature  of 
them.  I  told  him  that  my  grandfather,  Jacob  Cook,  was 
a  soldier  in  the  Mexican  War,  and  for  his  services  was 
awarded  one-third  of  a  league  of  land;  that  he  had  lo- 
cated it  in  Nueces  county,  Texas;  that  he  died  at  Mata- 
gorda Bay,  of  yellow  fever,  while  on  his  way  home  after 
the  war  with  Mexico;  that  all  the  papers  pertaining  to 
the  land  belonging  to  him,  consisting  of  1496  acres,  fell 
to  my  father;  that  he  had  placed  those  papers  in  my 
hands  for  my  own  use. 

The  commander  arose,  and  stretching  himself,  said: 
"A  straightforward  story,  sir;  sounds  like  a  book.  Ad- 
jutant, furnish  this  man  with  a  map,  with  instructions  to 
return  it  as  soon  as  he  makes  his  trip,  and  to  report  any 
water  he  may  find  not  marked  on  the  map." 

Before  we  left  the  office  an  undersized  Mexican  came  in, 
and  in  broken  English  engaged  the  adjutant  in  conversation. 

The  adjutant  said:  ''Oh,  by  the  way,  Theodosia  [the 
Mexican's  name],  your  home  is  at  La  Glorieta;  do  you 
know  Anton  Romero?" 

''Yes,  his  son  Manuel  is  here  now,  at  the  sutler's  store." 

I  stepped  up  to  the  Mexican,  who  was  a  government 
scout  and  guide,  and  I  said :  "Come  and  show  him  to  me." 

Theodosia,  Buck  and  I  went  to  the  store.  At  sight  of 
me  the  young  fellow  stood  for  a  moment  in  doubt  and 
amazement;"  then  hurried  up  to  me  and  gave  me  the 
Mexican  hug;  and  how  he  did  unravel  his  lingo,  laughing 
and  crying  both  at  once. 

Theodosia  interpreted  his  words  to  me  in  this  wise: 
"I  am  so  glad.  My  father  is  in  distress  about  you.  He 
would  never  have  let  you  leave  our  camp  alone.  We 
hunted  you  for  three  days;  father  will  be  so.  glad  now." 


STORY   OF   THE    SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  107 

I  asked  the  scout  to  find  out  where  the  camp  was  now: 
''En  donde  es  el  campo?"     (Where  is  your  camp?) 

He  said  it  was  on  the  Palo  Juan ;  that  we  could  go  and 
come  in  two  days ;  that  the  hunting  gave  out  on  the  Blue 
Water ;  and  that  they  had  come  on  toward  the  fort,  hoping 
to  find  better  hunting;  and  also  that  he  had  come  in  the 
night  before  to  get  some  ammunition,  and  to  find  out  if 
anyone  had  seen  the  Americano  who  left  their  camp. 

To  make  a  long  story  short,  I  made  arrangements  with 
Manuel  to  go  back  and  report  that  he  had  found  me, 
and  for  him  and  his  father  to  come  the  next  day  and  bring 
my  outfit. 

Buck  wen,t  back  to  his  camp  on  the  Gageby.  I  rode 
Doc  to  the  quartermaster's  corral;  and  as  I  dismounted 
I  recognized  the  familiar  face  of  Jack  Callahan,  who  had 
been  a  six-mule-team  wagonmaster  during  the  rebellion, 
whom  I  well  remembered  in  Arkansas.  It  took  but  a  few 
words  for  him  to  remember  me.  But  as  I  had  grown  to 
full  manhood,  with  beard  on  my  face^  he  did  not  at  first 
recognize  me.    I  was  made  welcome  and  at  home. 

The  next  evening  after  dark,  Theodosia  came  and  told 
me  that  Romero  and  son  were  there,  and  were  going  into 
camp  back  of  the  sutler's  store.  I  at  once  hastened  to 
them,  and  the  joy  that  Romero  expressed  at  sight  of  me 
was  genuine.  For  he  had  not  only  been  very  friendly 
with  me,  but  he  was  troubled  in  mind  for  my  safety.  He 
had  my  gun,  my  wardrobe  and  bedding,  and  I  was  miss- 
ing. He  did  not  know  what  might  have  happened.  But 
the  saints  had  been  good  to  him,  and  the  Virgin  Mary 
was  smiling.  He  did  not  want  to  be  suspected  of  having 
murdered  me,  such  an  act  having  been  done  for  less  value 
than  a  Winchester  gun  and  a  few  duds.  The  next  morn- 
ing I  had  Theodosia  go  with  me  to'  Romero  and  his  son's 


108         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

camp.  And  after  they  got  my  roll  of  bedding,  war-bag 
and  gun  out  of  their  wagon,  I  asked  them  what  I  owed 
them,  from  the  time  I  came  to  their  place  at  La  Glorieta 
imtil  this  time. 

Romero  said:  '^No!  No!  hombre-man;  you  owe  me 
nothing.  You  all  the  time  helped  in  camp;  here  are  all 
your  things..  I  shot  away  all  your  cartridges  but  two; 
how  much  shall  I  pay  you  for  them?" 

I  picked  up  my  Winchester  and  belt  and  placed  them  in 
his  hands,  saying,  ^'Romero,  these  are  yours." 

'^No,  no,"  he  said;  but  when  I  insisted  and  told  him 
about  my  other  gun,  before  spoken  of,  he  thanked  me, 
saying,  as  he  patted  the  stock  of  the  Winchester,  '^I'll 
keep  it  as  long  as  I  live,  and  it  shall  never  go  out  of  my 
family."  Then,  after  a  general  talk  of  half  an  hour  or 
so,  we  each  went  his  way.  . 

I  had  heard  of  the  professed  friendship,  the  insincerity, 
the  treachery,  the  thieving  propensities  of  the  New- 
Mexican,  until,  if  I  had  allowed  my  prejudices  to  govern 
me,  as  some  did,  I  should  be  calling  them  a  race  of  blanketed 
thieves.  Of  course  there  were,  and  are  yet,  many  of  that 
class  among  the  New-Mexicans,  but  it  was  not  the  rule, 
according  to  my  experience. 

Farewell,  Romero!  Although  your  color  is  cinnamon, 
and  you  may  have  Spanish,  Navajo,  or  even  Apache  blood 
in  your  veins,  you  treated  me  white  all  the  same. 

After  reporting  to  the  post  adjutant  and  handing  him 
the  map,  I  left  for  Sweet  Water,  and  there  I  met  the  real 
genuine  hide-hunters,  who  folio  wed .  this  as  an  exclusive 
business.  Several  outfits  were  camped  on  the  creek,  and 
with  them  I  put  in  the  remainder  of  the  day  and  evening, 
picking  up  information,  taking  items,  and  asking  some 
questions.     Every  hunter  kept  open  camp.     Hospitality 


STORY   OF   THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  109 

was  unbounded.  Every  man  seemed  to  carry  his  heart 
upon  his  sleeve.  It  was  here  this  day  that  I  met  the 
greatest  of  all  buffalo-slayers.  He  was  fitting  out  to  make 
the  first  southern  hunt  that  had  yet  been  made  by  the 
so-called  northern  hunters  in  the  Pease  and  Brazos  rivers 
country;  and  he  offered  me  twenty-five  cents  per  hide 
for  skinning  buffaloes.  Another  man,  from  northern 
Kansas,  had  engaged  to  go  with  him.  They  intended 
to  start  in  four  or  five  days.  I  told  him  I  would  like  to 
go  back  to  Gageby  and  talk  with  the  Wood  outfit  before 
agreeing  to-  engage  with  him.  Thereupon  it  was  agreed 
that  I  would  let  him  know  in  two  or  three  days  what 
answer  to  make  him. 

The  next  morning  I  rode  over  to  Gageby,  reaching 
there  before  noon.  I  had  thought  the  matter  all  out, 
and  felt  that  I  was  to  be  a  member  of  that  army  of  hunters 
that  were  to  exterminate  within  the  next  three  years  the 
countless  herds  of  the  American  bison. 

We  were  all  camped  together  at  this  time,  and  that 
night  I  stated  the  case  something  like  this:  *^Now  you 
people  are  all  different  from  me.  You  have  more  of  a 
community  interest;  mine  is  a  range  interest.  It  is 
immediate  funds  that  I  need,  and  to  get  the  quickest 
results  it  is  to  my  interest  to  follow  the  buffaloes."  They 
all  agreed  with  me,  but  said  if  I  would  stay  with  them  till 
spring  I  would  get  all  the  hunting  I  wanted,  but  that  I 
must  decide  for  myself. 

So,  early  the  next  morning,  Buchanan  Wood  made  me 
a  tender  of  the  money  for  the  number  of  the  hides  I  had 
skinned,  and  some  I  had  not,  while  I  had  been  with  him. 
I  told  him  that  I  hoped  I  could  not  be  so  ungrateful  for 
the  many  favors  I  had  received  from  their  hands,  and 
insisted  that  it  wsis  I  who  owed  them  money;   to  which 


110      .    THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

they  nearly  all  in  a  chorus  said:  ^'Oh,  no!  not  to  the 
Woods." 

I  felt  that  they  were  my  benefactors.  They  had  treated 
me  just  as  a  member  of  their  family  from  start  to  finish. 
Their  hospitality  was  as  broad  as  the  prairies  we  traveled 
over;  they  were  kind. to  one  another,  and  considerate 
of  the  stranger  within  their  gates. 

They  were  a  common  people,  of  rather  rough  exterior, 
but  imbued  with  Christian  principles.  They  were  a  strong 
type  of  the  backwoodsman,  and  had  not  one  personal 
trait  of  selfishness  among  them. 

I  had  arranged  with  Buck,  the  night  before,  to  take  me 
to  Sweet  Water.  When  we  were  ready  to  start  I  parted 
from  these  Good  Samaritans  of  the  wilderness  with  no 
little  reluctance.  There  were  no  limpy  dishrag  hand^ 
shakes.  It  was  a  cordial  grasp  of  the  hand  and  looking 
me  straight  in  the  eyes;  from  the  old  man  to  the  least 
child,  it  was  ''Good-by,  John." 

Mrs.  Wood  said:  ^'Now,  John,  if  you  come  back  with 
the  buffaloes  next  summer,  you  must  come  and  see  us; 
for  right  here  is  where  we  will  be  if  the  Indians  don't  scare 
us  away." 

Buck  and  I  went  to  Elliott  first,  to  get  my  bedding  and 
clothes  to  take  to  Sweet  Water.  While  there  I  went  to 
the  sutler's  store  and  bought  a  useful  present  for  each 
member  of  each  family,  and  sent  them  back  by  Buck, 
as  tokens  of  my  regard  for  them. 

Arriving  at  Sweet  Water,  James  Buchanan  Wood  and 
I  parted,  and  I  never  saw  him  again.  Good-by,  Buck; 
you  were  one  of  Nature's  noblemen. 

I  reported  to  the  famous  hunter  before  alluded  to.  He 
was  a  six-footer,  built  like  a  greyhound,  supple  as  a  cat, 
a  man  of  unusual  vitality,  long-winded  in  the  chase,  and 


STORY   OF   THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  Ill 

an  unerring  shot  at  game.  His  name  was  Charles  Hart. 
He  was  a  Union  ex-soldier,  captured  at  the  battle  of  Shiloh, 
and  lived  through  the  horrors  of  Anderson ville  prison. 
He  was  in  the  habit  of  getting  on  periodical  sprees,  at 
which  time  his  imagination  would  run  riot. . 

The  man  from  northern  Kansas  was  also  a  Union  ex- 
soldier,  named  Warren  Dockum.  If  the  reader  will  look 
on  the  map  of  Texas,  made  some  few  years  after  this 
time,  he  will  see  marked  on  a  tributary  of  WTiite  Canon,. 
Dockum's  Ranch,  where  he  located  in  1877,  two  years 
after  I  first  met  him. 

A  man  named  Hadley  was  to  accompany  us  with  a 
freight  team.  He  had  six  yoke  of  oxen  and  a  heavy  freight 
wagon. 

Then  there  was  Cyrus  Reed,  and  his  brother-in-law, 
Frank  Williamson,  a  green,  gawky  boy,  seventeen  years 
old.  These,  with  myself,  completed  the  number  in  our 
outfit.  We  had  two  two-horse  teams  hitched  to  light 
wagons,  on  starting  out.  One  of  these  teams  hauled  the 
provisions  and  camp  outfit,  which  consisted  of  one  medium 
and  one  large-sized  Dutch  oven,  three  large  frying-pans, 
two  coffee-pots,  two  camp-kettles,  bread-pans,  coffee- 
mill,  tin  cups,  platen,  knives,  forks,  spoons,  pot-hooks, 
a  meat-broiler,  shovel,  spades,  axes,  mess-box,  etc.  The 
other  one  hauled  our  bedding,  ammunition,  two  extra 
guns,  grindstone,  war  sacks,  and  what  reading-matter 
we  had  and  could  get. 

Before  leaving,  I  went  to  the  fort  and  made  the  rounds 
of  the  garrison,  with  a  sack,  and  begged  and  received 
nearly  all  the  sack  would  hold  of  newspapers  and  maga- 
zines. The  soldiers'  and  officers'  wives  seemed  glad  to 
get  rid  of  them,  and  we  were  only  too  glad  to  get  them. 

We  left  the  Sweet  Water  with  enough  provisions  to  last 


112         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

US  three  months.  We  had  250  pounds  of  St.  Louis  shot- 
tower  lead  in  bars  done  up  in  25-pound  sacks;  4000 
primers,  three  25-»pound  cans  of  Dupont  powder,  and  one 
6-pound  can.  This  description  would  be  the  basis  for  all 
hunting  outfits  complete,  which  would  vary  in  the  size 
of  the  crew,  larger  or  smaller,  and  the  length  of  time  they 
expected  to  be  away  from  supplies. 

We  left  the  Sweet  Water  a  few  days  after  New  Year's 
Day,  1875,  starting  up  Graham  creek;  when  at  its  head, 
we  veered  a  little  southwest  until  we  crossed,  the  north 
fork  of  Red  river.  Here  we  took  and  kept  as  near  a  due 
south  course  as  we  could  get  our  wagons  over.  We  traveled 
five  days  continuously,  now  and  then  killing  and  skinning 
a  few  straggling  buffaloes  that  were  handy  on  our  route. 
These  hides  we  put  in  the  freight  wagon  and  every  night 
we  spread  them  on  the  ground. 

The  sixth  day  we  lay  over  in  camp,  to  rest  the  stock; 
and  the  next  day  we  pulled  up  onto  the  Pease  river  divide, 
and  got  a  view  of  the  rear  of  the  great  countless  mass  of 
buffaloes. 

That  night  we  camped  on  a  tributary  of  Pease  river, 
where  there  were  five  other  hunting  outfits,,  which  had 
come  from  Sweet  Water  ahead  of  us,  but  had  kept  a  few 
miles  east  of  our  route.  These  outfits  can  be  named  in 
this  order,  and  like  our  own  followed  these  animals  to  the 
last:  "CsLYY  &  Causey,''  ^^Joe  Freed's,"  ^^John  Godey's," 
'^ Uncle  Joe  Horde,"  '^  Hiram  Bickerdyke."  '^Hi,"  as  we 
always  afterward  called  him,  was  a  son  of  Mother  Bicker- 
dyke,  the  famous  army  nurse,  during  the  Civil  War,  and 
who  was  looked  upon  by  the  soldiers  she  campaigned  with 
as  a  ministering  angel. 

That  evening  there  was  a  general  discussion  in  regard  to 
the  main  subject  in  hunters'  minds.     Colorado  had  passed 


STORY   OF  THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  113 

stringent  laws  that  were  practically  prohibitory  against 
buffalo-killing ;  the  Legislature  of  Kansas  did  the  same ;  the 
Indian  Territory  was  patrolled  by  United  States  marshals. 
And  all  the  venturesome  hunters  from  eastern  Colorado, 
western  Kansas,  the  Platte,  Solomon  and  Republican  rivers 
country  came  to  Texas  to  follow  the  chase  for  buffalo-hides. 

The  Texas  Legislature,  while  we  were  here  among  the 
herds,  to  destroy  them,  was  in  session  at  Austin,  with  a 
bill  drawn  up  for  their  protection.  General  Phil.  Sheri- 
dan was  then  in  command  of  the  military  department  of 
the  Southwest,  with  headquarters  at  San  Antonio.  When 
he  heard  of  the  nature  of  the  Texas  bill  for  the  protection 
of  the  buffaloes,  he  went  to  Austin,  and^  appearing  before 
the  joint  assembly  of  the  House  and  Senate,  so  the  story 
goes,  told  them  that  they  were  making  a  sentimental  mis- 
take by  legislating  in  the  interest  of  the  buffalo.  He  told 
them  that  instead  of  stopping  the  hunters  they  ought  to 
give  them  a  hearty,  unanimous  vote  of  thanks,  and  appro- 
priate a  sufficient  sum  of  money  to  strike  and  present  to 
each  one  a  medal  of  bronze,  with  a  dead  buffalo  on  one 
side  and  a  discouraged  Indian  on  the  other. 

He  said:  "These  men  have  done  in  the  last  two  years 
and  will  do  more  in  the  next  year,  to  settle  the  vexed  In- 
dian question,  tlfan  the  entire  regular  army  has  done  in  the 
last  thirty  years.  They  are  destroying  the  Indians'  com- 
missary; and  it  is  a  well-known  fact  that  an  army  losing 
its  base  of  supplies  is  placed  at  a  great  disadvantage. 
Send  them  powder  and  lead,  if  you  will;  but,  for  the  sake 
of  a  lasting  peace,  let  them  kill,  skin,  and  sell  until  the 
buffaloes  are  exterminated.  Then  your  prairies  can  be 
covered  with  speckled  cattle,  and  the  festive  cowboy,  who 
follows  the  hunter  as  a  second  forerunner  of  an  advanced 
civilization/' 


114         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

His  words  had  the  desired  effect,  and  for  the  next  three 
years  the  American  bison  traveled  through  a  hail  of  lead. 

The  next  morning  our  outfit  pulled  out  south,  and  that 
day  we  caught  up  with  and  passed  through  many  strag- 
gling bands  of  these  solemn-looking  but  doomed  animals. 
And  thus  we  traveled  by  easy  stages  four  days  more. 

Arriving  on  the  breaks  of  the  Salt  fork  of  the  Brazos 
river,  we  realized  that  we  were  in  the  midst  of  that  vast 
sea  of  animals  that  caused  us  gladness  and  sorrow,  joy, 
trouble  and  anxiety,  but  independence,  for  the  succeed- 
ing three  years.  We  drove  down  from  the  divide,  and, 
finding  a  fresh  spring  of  water,  went  into  camp  at  this 
place.  We  decided  to  scout  the  country  around  for  a 
suitable  place  for  a  permanent  camp. 

About  four  miles  to  the  west  and  south  we  found  an  ideal 
hunters'  camp:  plenty  of  fresh  water,  good  grass,  and 
wood  in  abundance.  Here  we  made  headquarters  until 
April.  This  was  a  broken  decomposed  '^mica''  or  '^isin- 
glass" (gypsum)  region,  along  the  breaks  of  the  streams. 
We  were  twenty-five  miles  west  of  the  one-hundredth 
meridian,  in  plain  view  of  the  Kiowa  peak  to  our  east  and 
the  Double  Mountain  to  our  south.  We  were  in  a  veri- 
table hunters'  paradise.  There  were  buffalo,  antelope, 
deer,  and  as  one  of  the  party  remarked,  'Hurkey  until 
further  orders." 

I  had  killed  wild  turkeys  in  southwest  Missouri,  also 
in  southeastern  Kansas,  and  had  always  looked  upon 
them  as  a  wary  game  bird.  But  here,  turkey,  turkey! 
Manifesting  at  all  times  and  places  a  total  indifference  to 
our  presence.  At  first  we  killed  some  of  them,  but  after 
cooking  and  attempting  to  eat  them  we  gave  it  up.  Their 
meat  was  bitter  and  sickening,  from  eating  china-berries 
(the  fruit  of  Sapindus  marginatus,   or  soapberry  trees). 


STORY   OF  THE    SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  115 

So  we  passed  and  repassed  them ;  and  they  did  the  same, 
and  paid  no  attention  whatever  to  us. 

Just  below  our  camp  there  was  a  large  turkey-roost, 
where  they  gathered  in  at  night  by  thousands.  They  came 
hi  droves  from  all  points  of  the  compass. 

Deer  were  simply  too  easy  to  find;  for  they  were  ever 
present.  The  same  with  antelope,  bear,  panther,  moun- 
tain lion  or  cougar,  raccoon,  polecat,  swift  coyotes  and 
wolves — they  were  all  here. 

And  at  times  I  asked  myself:  '^What  would  you  do, 
John  R.  Cook,  if  you  had  been  a  child  of  this  wonderfully 
prolific  game  region,  your  ancestors,  back  through  count- 
less ages,  according  to  traditional  history,  having  roamed 
these  vast  solitudes  as  free  as  the  air  they  breathed? 
What  would  you  do  if  some  outside  interloper  should 
come  in  and  start  a  ruthless  slaughter  upon  the  very  soil 
you  had  grown  from  childhood  upon,  and  that  you  be- 
lieved you  alone  had  all  the  rights  by  occupancy  that 
could  possibly  be  given  one?    Yes,  what  would  you  do?'' 

But  there  are  two  sides  to  the  question.  It  is  simply 
a  case  of  the  survival  of  the  fittest.  Too  late  to  stop  and 
moralize  now.  And  sentiment  must  have  no  part  in  our 
thoughts  from  this  time  on.  We  must  have  these  3361 
hides  that  this  region  is  to  and  did  furnish  us  inside  of 
three  months,  within  a  radius  of  eight  miles  from  this 
main  camp.  So  at  it  we  went.  And  Hart,  whom  we  will 
hereafter  call  Charlie,  started  out,  and  in  two, hours  had 
killed  sixty-three  bison. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Two  hundred  and  three  Killed  at  One  Time. — How  We  Skinned  Buf- 
falo.— I  Saw  a  Panther. — Cyrus  Saw  a  Bear. — I  Killed  an  Eagle. — 
A  Great,  Moving  Mass  of  Buffalo, — I  Kill  a  Cougar. — Hickey,  the 
Hide-buyer. — ^Cyrus  Meets  a  Bear. — The  Wounded  Panther. — 
The  Weird  Night  Watch.— I^eft  Alone.— On  Meat  Straight,  Four- 
teen Days. 

Dockum  and  I  for  the  first  few  days  worked  together. 
We  two  skinned  thirty-three  of  this  killing.  Hadley  and 
Cyrus  worked  together  for  a  short  time.  It  was  now  a 
busy  time.  Some  days  thirty  and  forty-odd  hides,  then 
a  good  day  with  eighty-five,  and  one  day  in  February, 
one  hundred  and  seventy-one;  then  again  the  same 
month,  203;  and  these  203  were  killed  on  less  than  ten 
acres  of  ground. 

My  experience  with  the  Woods  had  helped  me.  In 
starting  I  had  learned  to  keep  my  knives  in  good  order 
and  how  to  handle  and  manipulate  them.  But  it  was 
here  I  learned  to  simplify,  lighten,  and  speed  the  work. 

We  fastened  a  forked  stick  to  the  center  of  the  hind 
axle-tree  of  a  wagon,  letting  the  end  drag  on  the  ground 
on  an  incUne  to  say  20  degrees;  fastened  a  chain  or  rope 
to  the  same  axle,  then  we  would  drive  up  quartering  to 
the  carcass  and  hook  the  loose  end  of  the  chain  over  a 
front  leg.  After  skinning  the  upper  side  down,  then  start 
the  team  up  and  pull  the  dead  animal  up  a  little,  and  stop. 
(The  stick  prevented  the  wagon  from  backing  up.)  Then 
we  would  skin  the  belly  down  mid-sides;  start  the  team 
again,  and  pull  the  carcass  over,  having  rolled  the  first 
side  of  the  hide  close  to  the  backbone.  Then  we  would 
skin  down  to  the  backbone,  and  the  hide  was  separated 

(116) 


STORY   OF  THE    SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  117 

from  the  carcass.  We  would  then  throw  the  hide  in  the 
wagon,  and  proceed  as  before  until  all  the  hides  were 
skinned  from  the  dead  carcasses. 

Many  times  we  had  in  one  kilUng  more  hides  than  the 
two  ponies  could  pull  to  camp,  in  which  case  we  spread 
the  hide,  flesh  side  down,  by  the  carcass,  in  order  to  get  them 
when  there  was  a  slack  time  in  the  work. 

After  the  first  ten  days  I  went  alone  with  the  team,  ex- 
cept on  the  occasion  of  a  big  day's  killing.  Each  night 
Charley  got  out  his  memorandum  book  and  I  got  mine, 
and  we  put  down  the  number  of  hides  I  had  skinned  that 
day.  Isolated  as  we  were,  we  kept  track  of  the  days  of  the 
week  and  the  month  of  the  year.  This  was  Dockum's 
work.     He  was  very  methodical  in  everything  he  did. 

He  and  Frank,  the  boy,  attended  to  the  reloading  of  the 
shells,  pegged  out  the  hides,  and  from  three  to  five  days 
after  they  were  pegged  out  they  turned  them  flesh  side 
down,  and  every,  other  day  turned  them  back,  until  they 
were  dried;  after  which  they  were  stacked  one  on  top 
of  the  other  until  the  pile  was  eight  feet  high.  Then  they 
cut  strings  from  a  green  hide  and  tied  an  end  in  a  peg- 
hole  at  each  comer  of  the  bottom  hide,  ran  it  through 
the  holes  of  the  top  one,  then  drew  them  down  as  tight 
as  they  could  and  tie. 

The  pile  was  then  ready  for  market.  This  work,  to- 
gether with  cooking  and  general  camp-work,  kept  them 
both  very  busy  at  times.  We  classified  our  hides  as  we 
piled  them.  All  bulls  to  themselves,  the  cows  the  same 
way;  the  robe  hides  to  themselves,  and  the  younger  ani- 
mals into  what  was  called  the  kip  pile. 

Charlie  as  a  rule  did  the  most  of  his  killing  from  8a.m. 
imtil  noon,  but  made  some  good  killings  in  the  evening, 
in  which  the  carcasses  would  lie  all  night  before  being 


118         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

skinned.  These  would  bloat  up  and  the  hide  would  be 
tight  and  stiff,  which  made  the  work  more  tedious.  We 
had  to  be  more  careful,  too;  for  it  was  the  pride  of  the 
skinner  to  bring  in  hides  free  from  knife-gashes. 

We  had  good  hunting  at  this  camp  until  the  last  of 
February,  when  all  at  once  the  buffaloes  were  not  to  be 
seen. 

'^Oh,  well,"  said  Charley,  "we  need  a  little  rest  and 
diversion  anyhow;"  for  we  made  hay  while  the  sun  shone. 

I  thought  so,  too,  for  we  then  had  stacked  up  and  drying 
2003  hides,  902  of  them  I  had  skinned,  and  was  so  ac- 
credited. This  was  an  average  of  22  buffaloes  a  day  for 
41  days.    At  25  cents  per  hide  I  had  earned  $225.50. 

One  evening  on  coming  into  camp  with  my  day's  work 
in  the  wagon,  I  noticed  a  broken,  jagged  table-rock  dis- 
connected from  the  mesa,  or  table-land,  to  the  north  of  it, 
and  a  nearly  level  space  of  ground,  sixty  yards  wide,  from 
the  rock  to  the  main  plateau.  All  the  land  for  a  mile 
east,  west  and  south,  was  what  would  be  called  second- 
bottom  land.  I  had  gone  five  miles  that  day  and  skinned 
nineteen  buffaloes  that  had  been  killed  the  evening  be- 
fore ;  and  I  had  lost  considerable  time  in  finding  the  kill- 
ing, having  been  misdirected  to  the  place,  as  I  claimed, 
and  ''not  paying  strict  enough  attention  to  directions," 
as  Charlie  claimed.  In  a  joking  way  he  said:  ''You've 
been  lost  before,  have  you  not?" 

It  was  early  twilight  as  I  was  passing  the  table-rock, 
and  about  one  mile  and  a  half  from  camp,  when  I  noticed 
a  large  panther  making  leaps  toward  the  rock,  coming 
from  the  mesa ;  and  I  reported  this  in  camp  on  my  arrival 
there.  Cyrus  said  that  he  saw  a  bear  that  morning,  and 
it  was  coming  out  of  a  gypsum  cave  near  the  river.  So  we 
thought,  now  we  will  hunt  for  panther  first,  and  bear  next. 


STORY   OF  THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  119 

The  second  day  after  the  buffaloes  disappeared,  Charhe, 
Cyrus  and  myself  went  to  the  rock — all  on  foot.  We 
climbed  up  on  top  of  it,  and  noted  that  it  covered  an  acre 
or  more  of  ground,  perfectly  bare,  and  was  crossed  and 
recrossed  by  crevices  that  mostly  ran  down  to  the  bottom. 
Some  of  these  were  too  wide  to  jump  across;  some  we 
'could  step  over.  On  the  eastern  side  we  noticed  a  gradual 
break  from  summit  to  base,  and  a  pretty  well  beaten  path- 
Way  in  it.  There  Were  the  skeletons  of  several  deer  and 
buffaloes,  calves  and  yearlings,  scattered  all  around  the 
base  of  this  rocky,  cavemed  and  creviced  little  wonder 
spot.*  We  peered  in  and  through  every  nook  and  crevice, 
as  we  thought,  but  did  not  find  a  panther. 

Charlie  suggested  that  we  leave  and  go  on  up  the  mesa 
proper,  which  we  did,  and  after  coming  up  on  the  sum- 
mit of  it  we  sat  down  on  a  large  stone.  The  west  side  of 
this  plateau  was  very  precipitous,  and  irregular  and  very 
rugged  and  was  some  fifty  feet  higher  than  th6  bottom 
or  plain  below.  We  were  seated  close  to  *  this  western 
edge,  when  all  at  once  Charlie  said,  ''Look  yonder!"  at 
the  same  time  raising  the  big  fifty  to  his  face.  At  that  I 
caught  sight  of  a  large  panther,  and  said,  "Don't  shoot 
yet,  Charlie;  it  doesn't  see  us;  let's  watch  it  a  little;" 
for  it  was  coming  nearer  all  the  time,  aldng  the  foot  of  the 
escarpment.  We  all  three  had  our  guns  at  a  "ready." 
It  was  moving  slowly,  and  stepping  methodically,  with 
a  soft,  velvety  step,  looking  out  on  the  plain  to  the  west- 
ward. When  it  got  to  within  about  seventy-five  yards  of 
us,  Charlie  could  stand  it  no  longer,  and  pulled- trigger, 
at  which  it  leaped  high  in  air,  and  as  it  struck  the  ground 
Cy  and  I  both  shot.  W^hen  we  got  down  to  it  we  found 
we  had  all  three  struck  it.  We  soon  had  its  hide  off,  and 
when  we  got  back  on  the  bluff  we  saw,  about  a  mile  to  the 


120         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

west  of  US,  twelve  buffalo  bulls,  in  single  file,  slowly  march- 
ing toward  our  camp. 

Charlie  said:  ^'Now,  John,  there's  your  chance.  Try 
your  hand  on  them  now.  You've  got  the  wind  in  your 
favor;  take  a  dog-trot  toward  camp  and  you  can  get  to 
that  big  ravine  just  west  of  camp  ahead  of  them." 

I  worked  my  way  down  off  the  table-land;  and  upon 
getting  down  to  the  plain  I  took  a  good  sweeping  trot, 
carrying  my  "44c''  in  my  right  hand  most  of  the  time, 
but  changing  to  the  left  hand  occasionally,  for  a  short 
time. 

Sure  enough,  I  got  to  the  ravine  before  they  did.  I 
dropped  down  to  a  sitting  position,  set  up  my  rest-sticks, 
placed  the  muzzle  end  of  the  gun  in  the  crotch,  and  was 
ready.  By  the  lay  of  the  ground,  and  the  direction  of 
the  wind,  they  had  not  been  able  to  scent  or  see  me ;  and 
when  they  came  in  sight  they  were  at  the  head  of  the  de- 
file that  I  was  upon  the  slope  of. 

They  were  now  200  yards  from  me,  moving  along  in 
an  ordinary  walk.  They  would  pass  to  the  west  of  me 
about  sixty-odd  yards.  I  waited  until  they  got  pretty 
well  opposite  to  me,  and  made  a  "good  lung  shot  on  the 
leader.  He  crowned  up  his  back,  and  made  a  lunge  for- 
ward and  stopped  stock-still.  The  others  at  crack  of 
the  gun  jumped  side  wise  from  me,  and  started  off  up  the 
slope  of  the  ravine.  I  was  reloaded  in  a  jiffy  and  pulled 
down  at  the  one  in  front,  and  gave  him  a  quartering  shot 
that  ranged  forward  into  its  vital  organs. 

The  others  whirled  again  and  started  back  up  the  draw. 
This  gave  me  a  good  shot  at  the  one  in  front,  and  when  I 
hit  him  he  turned  around  and  started  down  the  draw  in 
the  direction  they  were  headed  at  first. 

I  shot  at  another  and  heard  the  bullet  strike;'  I  must 


STORY   OF   THE    SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  121 

have  hit  one  of  his  horns,  for  he  whirled  around  twice 
and  I  then  saw  him  run  down  and  hook  the  first  one  I 
had  shot,  that  was  down  and  struggUng. 

I  reloaded,  and  taking  a  careful  aim  at  the  farthest  one 
from  me,  which  was  now  about  300  yards,  I  pulled  down 
on  him'  and  fired.  In  the  mean  time,  the  one  that  had 
hooked  the  dying  one  bolted  down  the  ravine,  and  I  shot 
at  him  until  he  went  around  a  bend  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
below. 

There  were  now  only  three  of  the  twelve  in  sight,  one 
quite  dead,  the  second  one  I  shot,  down  and  kicking ;  the 
third  one  had  come  nearly  opposite  the  first  one  and  had 
lain  down,  and  was  weaving  his  great  mop  of  a  head  to 
right  and  left.  I  thought  he  was  dying.  I  rose  up  and 
started  to  go  to  the  head  of  the  draw.  Just  then  he  got 
up  on  his  feet,  bowed  his  back  and  raised  his  tail  nearly 
straight  up.  I  shot  him  twice  more,  in  quick  succession. 
Down  he  went,  never  to  rise.  Then  I  went  to  the  head  of 
the  draw  and  some  two  hundred  yards  west  there  was 
one  in  plain  sight,  standing  with  his  head  from  me,  and 
no  others  in  sight.  I  knew  then  in  all  reason  I  had  wounded 
him. 

Sitting  down  and  placing  my  gun  in  the  rest-sticks,  I 
drew  a  fine  bead  on  him,  holding  the  muzzle  of  the  gun 
just  at  the  top  of  the  rump.  When  I  fired  it  seemed  to 
me  that  the  whole  hind  part  of  his  body  rose  clear  off  the 
ground.  He  made  a  few  lumbering,  awkward  jumps 
forward,  turned  sidewise,  crouched  down  on  his  hunkers, 
and  just  as  I  was  getting  ready  to  shoot  again  he  fell  over 
on  his  left  side,  kicked  up  his  feet  violently  for  a  few 
seconds  and  gave  up  to  fate. 

I  had  killed  four  out  of  the  twelve.  By  counting  my 
shells  I  found  I  had  shot  thirteen  times.  I  took  the  tongues 


122         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

from  the  four  and  went  to  camp,  boiled  tongue  being  a 
luxury.  Dockum,  Hadley  and  Frank  were  in  camp  when 
I  got  there.  They  had  heard  the  shooting,  and  seemed 
surprised  when  they  learned  that  it  was  I  doing  it  and 
that  I  had  killed  four  out  of  twelve  with  only  thirteen 
shots. 

When  Charlie  and  Cyrus  came  in,  shortly  after  I  had 
reached  camp,  we  had  the  four  tongues  cooking  in  a  kettle ; 
and  when  the  former  heard  that  I  had  killed  the  four 
buffaloes,  he  said: 

^^Cook,  I  believe  if  you  had  had  your  gun  when  you 
were  lost  on  the  South  Canadian  you  would  have  made 
your  living." 

I  took  my  hide  team  and  drove  out  and  skinned  the 
four  buffaloes  I  had  killed,  thus  earning  one  dollar  on  that 
holiday. 

The  next  morning  CharUe  got  on  his  hunting-horse 
and  rode  south  across  the  Brazos.  He  said  on  leaving  us 
that  he  would  ride  until  he  found  good  hunting  again. 
Cyrus  and  I  struck  out  for  the  place  he  had  seen  the  bear. 
After  reaching  the  place,  we  explored  the  region  pretty 
thoroughly;  found  plenty  of  fresh  signs,  but  we  did  not 
see  one  the  entire  day.  We  were  both  afoot,  and  roamed 
at  will  as  thought  or  fancy  pleased  us. 

W^ending  our  way  toward  camp,  we  came  to  some  rough 
breaks  near  the  Brazos,  and  saw  a  large  eagle  alight  on  a 
jutting  crag.  It  had  a  jack  rabbit  in  its  talons,  and  com- 
menced eating  it.  It  was  fully  two  hundred  yards  from 
us,  and  if  it  saw  us  at  all  it  ignored  our  presence. 

'^ Cyrus,"  I  said,  ''I  would  like  to  have  that  eagle." 

"He  is  yours  if  you  can  get  him,"  he  repUed. 

I  then  said,  "If  you  will  stay  where  you  are  and  give 
me  a  few  moments'  time  I  believe  I'll  get  it." 


STORY   OF   THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  123 

He  said,  '^AU  right." 

I  took  three  or  four  steps  backward,  and,  bringing  a 
thorn-bush  between  the  eagle  and  myself,  I  started  across 
a  little  valley  and  came  up  under  the  bluff  where  the  eagle 
was  standing  on  the  crag.  I  scaled  the  gpysum  butte 
and  got  up  near  the  summit  and  peeped  over,  and  there 
he  was,  not  more  than  fifty  yards  from  me.  I  drew  a 
fine  bead,  and  fired.  He  plunged  over  the  crag  and  rolled 
to  the  bottom — dead.  ' 

I  picked  him  up  and  went  on  into  camp.  I  had  heard 
that  eagle-oil  was  the  best  kind  of  gun-oil.  He  was  large, 
very  fat,  and  had  fine  plumage.  We  saved  all  the  oil  for 
our  guns,  and  I  bundled  the  feathers  together  and  kept 
them  until  the  next  summer,  when  I  traded  them  to  a 
young  Cheyenne  would-be  warrior  for  a  pinto  pony  that 
the  Quohada  Comanches  afterward  stole  from  me  in  the 
spring  of  1877. 

When  Cyrus  and  I  got  to  camp  we  found  Charlie,  our 
hunter,  there.  He  brought  us  good  word  for  more  hunt- 
ing. It  was  understood  that  we  were  to  move  camp  the 
next  morning,  cross  the  Brazos,  and  go  to  near  the  sum- 
mit of  the  divide,  'between,  it  and  Croton  creek,  where 
he  had  found  a  spring  of  nearly  fresh  water,  with  several 
pools  below  it.  Speaking  of  Croton  creek,  it  surely  was 
properly  named.  For  a  sudden,  immediate  and  effective 
laxative,  it  was  a  whole  apothecary  shop. 

This  camp  was  nearly  four  miles  from  the  first  camp, 
and  here  we  had  fair  hunting  until  the  latter  part  of  March. 
Then  one  morning  on  going  to  our  lookout,  not  a  buffalo 
could  be  seen.  We  were  all  satisfied,  for  we  wanted  a 
rest  and  change. 

At  this  camp  we  got  906  hides,  and  I  had  skinned  407 
of  them,  thereby  earning  $101.75. 


124         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

We  had  run  short  of  primers  a  few  days  previous  to 
this  lull  in  the  hunt,  and  hearing  big  guns  every  day  in 
different  directions  from  us,  Hadley  was  delegated  to 
himt  up  a  camp,  in  the  hope  of  getting  enough  primers 
to  tide  us  over  until  Hadley  could  make  a  trip  to  Fort 
Griffin,  where  there  was  a  supply  store.  The  first  camp 
he  found  was  the  Carr  and  Causey  outfit,  which  had  killed 
3700  buffaloes.  They  were  out  of  flour,  and  were  getting 
low  on  all  kinds  of  ammunition  except  primers ;  but  were 
looking  for  a  man  whom  they  had  sent  to  Griffin  to  return 
in  a  short  time. 

'^Yes,  they  would  divide  primers  if  we  would  divide 
flour." 

So  the  exchange  was  made,  they  getting  fifty  poimds 
of  flour,  and  we  getting  one  thousand  primers. 

From  this  camp  Dockum  and  I  went  with  Hadley  to 
our  first  camp  and  helped  him  to  load  200  hides.  He  went 
to  Fort  Griffin,  and  did  not  get  back  for  seven  weeks. 
Our  flour  and  coffee  gave  out,  and  we  were  three  days 
without  bread,  when  fortunately  .we  heard  of  John  Goff's 
camp  to  the  southeast  of  us,  and  that  he  had  nearly  one 
thousand  pounds  of  flour  and  would  divide  with  us. 

I  took  my  hunting  team  and  went  to  his  camp,  which 
I  confess  I  found  by  accident  more  than  by  design.  I  had 
not  gone  five  miles  until  I  saw  the  great  mass  of  moving 
creatures,  on  their  annual  .northern  swing.  Looking  to 
the  east  and  south  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  it  seemed 
to  me  that  I  saw  nothing  but  a  solid  mass  of  bison;  and 
I  had  to  either  turn  back  or  go  through  them.  The  wind 
was  from  the  north,  and  they  were  heading  it  and  were 
moving  in  a  quick-step  gait.  I  was  supposed  to  be  at 
this  time  ten  miles  from  Goff's. 

I  had  heard  of  stampedes  where  they  ran  over  every- 


STORY   OF  THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  125 

thing  in  their  way,  and  I  thought  "now  should  I  get  out 
into  that  big  field  of  animals  and  they  did  make  a  run, 
there  would  be  annihilation."  Then  I  thought  "to  go 
back  to  camp  with  word  that  I  was  turned  back  by  the 
main  herd  would  be  construed  as  weakness." 

Looking  to  the  southwest  and  west,  I  saw  a  mov- 
ing sea  of  that  one  countless  host.  I  decided  that  I 
was  just  as  safe  going  ahead  as  turning  back.  So,  taking 
the  landmark  in  view  that  I  was  to  go  to,  I  started  on, 
and  was  soon  among  them.  Of  course  there  were  inter- 
vals of  bare  ground;  but  they  were  small  in  comparison 
to  the  ground  actually  covered  by  the  buffaloes.  As  I 
drove  on,  they  would  veer  to  my  right  in  front  and  to  my 
left  in  rear;  the  others  following  on  behind  them,  would 
hardly  seem  to  vary  their  course. 

I  had  gone  perhaps  five  miles  in  this  way,  when  all  fear 
from  them  seemingly  disappeared;  and,  looking  that  day 
at  that  most  wonderful  sight,  I  thought  it  would  take  the 
standing  army  of  the  United  States  years  to  exterminate 
them.  In  fact,  it  was  the  opinion  of  conservative  hunters 
as  late  as  the  New  Year  of  1877  that  the  present  army  of 
hunters  were  not  killing  the  original  herds,  but  only  the 
natural  increase. 

When  I  had  arrived  at  the  landmark  that  I  started  for, 
I  was  only  two  miles  from  Goff's  camp.  I  was  directed  to 
turn  a  northeast  course,  and  by  going  half  a  mile  farther 
I  would  come  to  the  head  of  a  ravine  that  his  camp  was 
on.  I  had  not  gone  more  than  half  the  distance  when, 
boom!  boom!  came  the  sound  of  death-dealing  shots, 
off  the  northwest.  And  not  more  than  half  a  mile  from 
me  it  was  boom!  boom!  boom!  in  such  quick  succession 
that  it  sounded  more  like  a  skirmish  than  a  hunt.  It  was 
then  that  the  buffaloes  filed  to  the  right  and  commenced 


126         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

running,  jamming,  and  crowding  one  another,  and  were 
crossing  the  route  ahead  of  me,  going  eastward  pretty 
rapidly. 

I  turned  east  and  traveled  more  than  a  mile  with  a 
compact  mass  of  fleeing,  wild,  frantic,  ferocious-looking 
beasts.  On  each  side  of  me  and  soon  ahead  of  me  I  heard 
the  same  deep-toned  notes  of  the  big  fifty.  Then  it  was 
that  I  saw  a  large  mass  oi  the  herd  east  of  me  wheel  to 
the  right  and  make  a  run  to  the  south.  Those  that  were 
north  of  my  route  of  travel  passed  on  northward  to  the 
Salt  Fork  of  the  Brazos  breaks ;  and  the  prairie  was  clear 
in  front  of  me. 

On  looking  ahead  I  saw  a  horseman  approaching,  and 
meeting  him  he  proved  to  one  of  the  Quinn  Brothers.  He 
informed  me  that  his  camp  was  still  four  miles  east,  and 
that  I  would  find  John  Goff's  camp  about  three  miles  north- 
west. So  I  turned  northwest  and  started  for  the  camp, 
and  had  not  gone  far  until  all  the  buffaloes  in  sight  were 
again  moving  northward.  When  I  had  traveled  as  far  as 
I  thought  I  ought  to  have  gone,  I  came  up  to  a  steep  gully, 
thirty  feet  wide  and  fully  forty  feet  deep,  with  steep-cut 
banks  on  both  sides.  I  stopped  and  craned  my  neck  in 
every  direction,  but  saw  no  sign  of  a  camp.  Thinking  I 
had  gone  far  enough,  I  turned  to  the  south  to  head  the 
gully.  I  was  along  close  to  the  bank  when  I  saw  down  in 
the  gully  and  ahead  of  me  a  cougar,  feeding  on  the  carcass 
of  a  buffalo.  I  got  out  of  the  wagon ;  unhitched  the  team ; 
tied  it  to  the  wagon ;  took  my  44,  and  stooping  low,  stole 
up  to  nearly  opposite  the  cougar,  in  plain  sight  of  it,  not 
more  than  sixty  yards  from  where  it  was  feeding.  The 
tawny,  dirty-yellow-looking  brute  appeared  to  be  totally 
oblivious  of  my  presence.  I  stretched  out  on  my  belly, 
and,  placing  a  large  buffalo-chip  in  front  of  me,  let  the 


STORY   OF   THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  127 

muzzle  end  of  the  gun  rest  on  it,  and  then  watched  him 
for  a  minute  or  more.  He  would  get  hold  of  the  flesh  and 
try  to  gnaw  and  pull  until  he  got  a  mouthful,  then  would 
raise  his  head  and  gulp  down,  what  flesh  he  had  torn  loose, 
and  dive  in  again.  After  he  had  done  this  way  twice  and 
was  busy  getting  another  mouthful,  I  shot  him,  pulling  for 
the  butt  of  the  left  ear.  He  never  knew  what  hurt  him. 
I  went  down  to  where  it  and  the  buffalo  lay,  and,  taking 
my  ripping-knife  out  of  the  scabbard,  I  scalped  the  cougar, 
taking  both  ears  and  the  frontal  hide  down  to  the  lower 
end  of  the  upper  jaw,  including  the  lips.  Then  I  also  am- 
putated one  of  the  forelegs  at  the  knee,  and  hurried  back 
to  the  wagon. 

As  I  was  hitching  up,  John  Goff  himself  rode  up  and  asked 
me  how  in  the  world  I  happened  to  be  here.  At  first  sight 
I  formed  an  unfavorable  impression  of  him.  He  had  long 
hair  and  was  the  dirtiest,  greasiest  and  smokiest  looking 
mortal  I  had  ever  seen,  as  he  sat  there  on  a  fleet-looking 
horse,  holding  in  his  hands  a  44  Sharp's  rather  carelessly. 

I  replied  that  I  was  hunting  John  Goff's  camp,  and  had 
been  drifted  out  of  my  way  by  the  buffaloes,  and  had  seen 
a  cougar  down  in  the  gully  and  killed  it,  and  was  going  on 
to  find  a  crossing  of  the  gully  and  continue  my  hunt  for 
the  camp. 

"What  do  you  want  to  see  Goff  about?"  he  asked. 

I  told  him  I  wanted  to  get  some  flour  of  him ;  had  heard 
that  he  had  quite  a  lot  on  hand. 

''All  right;  I'm  John  Goff;  turn  round  and  follow  me," 
which  I  did,  and, found  his  camp  two  miles  from  where  I 
supposed  it  was,  and  in  a  different  direction. 

After  we  reached  his  camp  he  treated  me  like  a  nobleman. 
Said  when  he  first  saw  me  he  ''felt  a  little  suspicious,  on 
account  of  one  of  the  hunters  north  of  him  having  some 


128         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

hides  stolen  a  few  days  before;  and  he  did  not  know  but 
I  might  be  the  same  party.''  He  added  that  he  was  ^'not 
particularly  given  to  suspicion;  but  having  only  heard 
of  the  theft  the  evening  before,  and  seeing  me  on  his  hunt- 
ing-grounds the  next  day,  led  him  to  be  somewhat  suspi- 
cious.'' He  said  the  northern  hunters  were  just  north  of 
him,  and  the  Quinn  boys  east  of  him ;  but  that  he  thought 
the  parties  that  had  stolen  the  hides  were  meat-hunters 
from  the  edge  of  the  settlement  on  the  Clear  fork  of  .the 
Brazos. 

I  told  him  that  I  belonged  to  one  of  the  northern  outfits, 
and  stated  the  facts  of  our  case  just  as  they  existed,  where- 
upon, he  let  me  have  300  pounds  of  flour,  stating  to  me 
that  the  buffaloes  would  soon  pass  north,  and  he  would 
break  up  his  camp  as  soon  as  the  bulk  of  the  herd  had 
passed. 

From  him  I  learned  that  a  man  named  Hickey  was  at 
Fort  Griffin  as  agent  for  Loganstein  &  Company,  of  Leav- 
enworth, Kansas,  with  instructions  to  buy  all  the  buffalo- 
hides  offered  for  sale;  to  pay  for  them  on  the  range  and 
haul  them  to  Fort  Worth,  Texas,  with  freight  teams.  He 
also  gave  me  the  price-list  that  Hickey  was  paying.  I 
stayed  all  night  at  Goff's,  and  at  daylight  the  next  morning 
Goff  piloted  me  out  a  near  way  to  the  open  plain,  where  I 
called  his  attention  to  a  landmark  near  our  camp.  We 
parted  with  the  usual  parting  salutation,  '^  so-long,"  a 
phrase  common  on  the  frontier  for  '^good-by." 

At  2  p.  M.  I  was  in  our  own  camp,  and  not  a  soul  there 
to  greet  me.  Upon  looking  around  I  soon  satisfied  myself 
that  all  were  busy  skinning  buffaloes.  Charlie's  hunting- 
horse  was  close  hobbled  near  camp,  his  saddle  lying  by  the 
tepee  that  we  slept  in,  and  a  big  pile  of  empty  shells  were 
lying  by  the  ammunition-box. 


STORY   OF   THE    SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  129 

I  unhitched  and  turned  out  my  team;  built  a  fire,  and 
pitched  into  bread-making.  We  had  been  living  on  sour- 
dough bread  for  the  last  month,  and  the  boys  had  now  gone 
five  days  without  any  bread.  So  I  got  of  Goff  a  five-pound 
can  of  baking-powder;  and  I  had  an  agreeable  surprise 
and  a  bountiful  supply  of  baking-powder  biscuits  for  the 
boys  when  they  came  into  camp,  which  was  just  as  the  sun 
went  down. 

It  did  seem  to  me  that  if  I  had  been  gone  a  year  there 
could  not  have  been  a  more  joyful  meeting.  They  all 
agreed  that  the  old  saying  that  ''bread  is  the  staff  of  life" 
was  true,  and  that  I  was  indeed  fortunate  both  in  going 
and  coming  through  that  apparently  endless  mass  of  buf- 
faloes ;  for  as  I  came  back  through  them  there  seemed  to 
be  but  little  difference  in  the  solidity  of  the  herd  from  the 
day  before;  and  within  gunshot  of  camp  as  I  drove  in 
there  were  hundreds  of  them  moving  northward.  Charlie 
had  killed  197  the  afternoon  before,  and  took  his  knives 
and  went  early  the  next  morning  with  the  boys  about  one 
and  one-half  miles  to  help  skin  those  buffaloes.  Cyrus, 
Frank  and  Dockum  had  skinned  forty-six  the  same  evening 
they  were  killed. 

All  night  long  these  ill-fated  creatures  passed  our  camp 
in  silent  tread,  save  the  rattling  of  their  dewclaws.  We 
were  all  up  early  the  next  morning;  and  after  breakfast 
Charlie  went  up  over  the  slope  toward  Croton  creek.  Soon 
-the  work  of  death  began;  and  by  the  time  I  had  hitched 
up  and  driven  on  to  the  divide  he  had  killed  thirty-eight, 
mostly  bulls. 

I  saw  when  I  drove  up  on  the  ridge  that  the  great  mass 
of  the  buffaloes  had  passed  by.  But  looking  as  far  south 
as  my  point  of  view  extended,  I  could  see  scattering  bands 
of  from  five  to  twenty  straggling  along  bringing  up  the  rear. 


130         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

After  killing  the  thirty-eight,  Charlie  came  to  meet  me, 
and  said: 

^^  John,  it  will  soon  be  mighty  poor  hunting  around  here. 
The  bulk  of  the  buffaloes  have  passed;  and  I  have  been 
thinking,  from  what  you  told  me  last  night  about  that  man 
Hickey  and  his  prices,  that  I  would  better  sell  this  hunt  to 
him,  and  let  him  receive  them  in  camp.  Now  will  you  take 
my  hunting-horse  to-morrow,  go  to  Fort  Griffin,  and  make 
a  deal  with  him  for  me?  Ill  pay  you  five  dollars  a  day  for 
what  time  you  are  gone;  and  I  believe  that  is  more  than 
you'll  make  skinning  buffaloes  from  this  on." 

I  said:   ^'All  right,  Charlie;  Til  go.'' 

He  passed  on  up  the  divide,  and  I  down  to  the  thirty- 
eight  carcasses,  and  went  to  work.  There  were  twenty 
old  stub-horned  bulls  in  this  killing;  two  of  this  lot  were 
smooth,  sharp-horned  six-year-olds;  the  remainder  were 
spikes,  excepting  three  cows.  The  spikes  were  two-  and 
three-year-olds,  which  skinned  nearly  as  easily  as  cows. 

I  began  work  about  8  o'clock,  and  did  not  get  them  all 
skinned  till  sundown.  I  did  not  hear  the  hunters'  guns 
during  the  day  and  wondered  why;  and  I  kept  looking 
for  Cyrus  to  come  and  skin  a  portion  of  the  thirty-eight. 
It  was  dark  when  I  got  to  camp,  bringing  half  of  the  hides ; 
and  it  was- all  the  ponies  could  pull  to  the  top  of  the  divide. 

On  arriving  at  camp  I  found  all  there  but  Cyrus  Reed. 
Charlie  had  killed  eighteen  head  near  where  he  had  made 
the  big  killing  two  days  before;  and  Cyrus  had  gone  to 
skin  them  about  11  -a.  m.  It  was  thought  he  had  ample 
time  to  get  to  camp  before  I  did. 

I  unhitched  and  ate  my  supper,  and  no  Cyrus.  We  were 
all  a  little  concerned  about  him,  and  were  talking  of  going 
out  to  look  after  him,  when  w.e  heard  the  sound  of  a  gun 
not  far  from  camp.     Charlie  picked  up  his  gun  and  fired 


STORY   OF  THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  131 

it  off  in  the  air.  Then  we  heard  Cyrus  answer  as  he  gave 
the  Comanche  yell,  which  I  will  attempt  to  describe  later  on. 

He  had  finished  his  work  and  started  for  camp  along 
what  is  called  a  hogback — a  narrow  ridge  between  two 
deep  ravines — when  he  met  a  bear  strolling  down  the 
ridge  as  he  was  driving  up,  and  his  ponies  getting  scent 
of  it,  they  whirled  suddenly,  and  team,  wagon  and  hides 
went  plunging,  tumbling  and  rolling  off  the  hogback. 

In  the  scramble,  both  ponies  got  loose  from  the  wagon, 
thanks  to  an  old,  half-rotten  and  toggled-up  set  of  harness. 
The  horses  bolted  back  down  the  canon ;  the  bear  in  the 
meantime  shambling  off  down  the  other  side;  and  Cyrus 
had  only  time  enough,  after  the  near  line  broke,  to  grab 
his  gun  and  hop  out  of  the  wagon  before  it  upset. 

He  had  followed  the  ponies  to  where  the  gully  came  out 
on  the  fiat,  and  seeing  they  had  turned  north  toward  the 
river,  he  followed  them  until  dusk;  then,  not  coming  in 
sight  of  them,  he  took  a  course  for  camp,  and  was  not  cer- 
tain where  he  was  until  w^  had  answered  his  shot.  He 
said  he  never  had  had  such  a  reckless  abandon  of  the  com- 
mon civilities  of  life  as  those  two  cayuses  manifested  on 
this  occasion. 

The  next  morning  Charlie  started  on  his  hunting-horse 
for  the  runaways ;  and  Cyrus  and  I  took  my  team  to  bring 
in  the  wreck.  With  a  hatchet,  rawhide,  and  a  few  nails, 
we  patched  up  the  tongue  and  reach  of  the  wagon;  got 
it  back  upon  the  hogback  by  driving  to  the  mouth  of  the 
gully.  The  hides  had  all  rolled  out  when  the  wagon  first 
upset,  near  the  summit  of  the  ridge,  but  we  soon  had  all 
in  as  good  order  as  before ;  and  when  we  drove  into  camp 
we  found  Charlie  with  the  runaway  ponies. 

I  then^aid  to  him  that  *'I  could  ride  to  Quinn's  camp 
yet  that  day ;  I  would  go  by  Goff 's  and  get  from  him  or  his 


132         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

camp  man  a  landmark  to  go  by,  and  thought  I  would  have 
no  trouble  in  making  it ;  that  Goff  had  told  me  there  was 
an  old  military  trail  from  Quinn's  to  Griffin." 

Well,  I  started,  with  my  44  in  front  of  me,  a  bootleg  for 
a  holster,  fastened  to  the  pommel  of  my  saddle.  I  was  at 
Goff's  by  3  p.  M.,  and  saw  only  three  small  bands  of  bison 
on  the  way.  How  unlike  the  three  days  previous!  It 
seemed  to  me  like  Sunday! 

I  then  thought :  What  fertile  soil !  And  what  profit- 
able and  beautiful  homes  this  region  would  make  if  only 
moisture  were  assured!  How  seemingly  ruthless  this 
slaughter  of  the  thousands  of  tons  of  meat,  one  of  the 
most  wholesome  and  nutritious  diets,  as  a  rule,  in  the 
world !  Who  ever  heard  of  an  epidemic  or  any  contagious 
disease  among  the  American  bison?  How  many  of  those 
of  whom  Christ  said,  ^' These  ye  shall  always  have  with 
ye,"  whose  wan  features  and  lusterless  eyes  would  brighten 
and  sparkle  at  the  opportunity  of  feasting  upon  the  choice 
selections  of  this  choice  meat?  Yes,  even  to  crack  the 
marrow-bones  and  eat  with  his  scant  allowance  of  bread, 
this  choicest  and  richest  of  butterine  from  everybody's 
herd,  with  neither  brand  nor  earmark  made  and  recorded. 

Then  a  slight  feeling  of  remorse  would  come  over  me  for 
the  part  I  was  taking  in  this  greatest  of  all  ^^  hunts  to  the 
death."  Then  I  would  justify  myself  with  the  recollec- 
tion of  what  General  Sheridan  had  said;  and  I  pictured 
to  myself  a  white  school-house  on  that'  knoll  yonder  where 
a  mild  maid  was  teaching  future  generals  and  statesmen 
the  necessity  of  becoming  familiar  with  the  three  R's. 
Back  there  on  that  plateau  I  could  see  the  court-house  of 
a  thriving  county  seat.  On  ahead  is  a  good  site  for  a 
church  of  any  Christian  denomination.  Down  there 
where  those  two  ravines  come  together  would  be  a  good 


STORY  OF  THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  133 

place  for  a  country  store  and  post  office.  Some  of  these 
days  we  will  hear  the  whistle  and  shriek  of  a  locomotive 
as  she  comes  through  the  gap  near  the  Double  Mountain 
fork  of  the  Brazos.  And  not  long  until  we  can  hear  in  this 
great  southwest  the  lowing  of  the  kine,  the  bleating  sheep, 
and  the  morning  crow  of  the  barnyard  Chanticleer,  in- 
stead of  the  blood-curdling  war-whoop  of  the  Kiowas 
and  the  hideous  yell  of  the  merciless  Comanches. 

I  reached  Goff's  camp,  and  found  him  there.  After  half 
an  hour's  talk  with  him,  he  directed  me  how  to  find  Quinn's. 

He  said:  "Now,  you  travel  this  course,"  pointing  south- 
east. About  six  miles  will  take  you  to  the  McKinzie  trail. 
It  is  very  plain.  You  could  not  cross  it  in  daylight  with- 
out observing  it.  When  you  get  to  it,  take  the  eastern 
trend  of  it;  go  on  about  five  miles;  on  coming  up  on  a 
ridge  you'll  see  Quinn's  camp  straight  ahead  of  you  about 
two  miles,  just  on  the  right-hand  side  of  the  trail."  The 
way  was  so  plain  and  the  lay  of  the  land  so  even  that  I 
was  at  Quinn's  just  at  sundown. 

Here  I  found  Mr.  Hickey,  the  hide-buyer,  whom  I  had 
expected  to  find  in  Fort  Griffin.  There  were  twelve 
thousand  hides  piled  here,  two  thousand  of  them  that  the 
two  Quinn  Brothers  had  killed  and  traded  for.  The 
rest  belonged  to  different  outfits,  who  had  made  the  en- 
tire winter's  hunt  within  a  radius  of  twenty-five  miles  of 
here.  Hickey  met  the  owners  of  these  hides  that  day. 
and  purchased  them. 

After  talking  with  three  of  the  hunters  who  were  camped 
there  for  the  night,  and  getting  from  them  some  pointers 
on  Hickey 's  ideas  of  classification  and  his  general  methods 
of  dealing,  I  approached  him  the  next  morning,  by  saying, 
"Mr.  Hickey,  I  understand  you  are  from  Leavenworth, 
Kansas." 


134         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

He  said :  "  Yes ;  do  you  know  anything  about  the  place  ? '  ^ 

I  told  him,  "Not  since  the  Rebellion." 

This  brought  all  those  present  into  nearly  an  hour's 
conversation  about  the  past  and  down  to  the  present. 
All  agreed  that  there  was  a  hopeful  and  bright  future  for 
our  country. 

Hickey  asked  me  where  my  hide  camp  was  and  how 
many  hides  I  had.  I  told  him  I  was  working  for  Charles 
Hart;  that  we  were  the  so-called  northern  hunters;  that 
we  had  about  3000  prime  hides ;  that  we  were  assured  by 
Eath  &^  Wright,  of  Dodge  City,  that  they  would  come 
after  our  hides  and  give  us  top  prices,  no  matter  how  far 
south  we  hunted. 

He  was  a  quick,  impulsive,  genial  Irishman,  who  did 
not  want  Rath  &  Wright  to  get  a  hide  south  of  the  Red 
river.  He  asked  me  if  I  would  pilot  him  to  our  camp. 
I  told  him  I  would;  and  that  there  were  several  other 
camps  within  gun-hearing  of  ours. 

In  a  few  moments  we  were  saddled  up  and  off.  I  found 
him  to  be  a  good  conversationalist,  well  informed,  and  in 
possession  of  knowledge  upon  the  latest  current  events. 
He  said  all  of  Loganstein  &  Co.'s  hides  went  to  Europe; 
that  the  EngHsh  army  accouterments  of  a  leather  kind 
were  being  replaced  with  buffalo  leather,  on  account  of 
its  being  more  pliant  and  having  more  elasticity  than  cow- 
hide; that  buffalo  leather  was  not  fit  for  harness,  shoes, 
or  belting ;  but  for  leather  buffers  it  could  not  be  excelled. 
As  we  were  passing  a  place  where  lay  eighty-odd  car- 
casses, he  halted,  and  for  the  space  of  five  or  more  minutes, 
rapidly  reeled  off  in  that  rich  clarion  Irish  brogue,  as  my 
recollection  serves  me  now,  something  like  this: 

"Well:  the  howly  smoke!  Did  I  iver  see  such  wanton 
distruction?    No   regard    whativer   to    economy!    What 


STORY   OF   THE    SOUTHWEST   P];.AINS.  135 

beautiful  combs  and  other  ornaments  thim  horns  would 
make  for  the  ladies!  The  money,  mon  alive,  in  the  glue! 
What  a  harvest  for  an  upholsterer  in  that  hair  on  their 
heads!  Ivery  pound  of  that  mate  could  and  should  be 
utilized  at  a  fine  commercial  advantage.  The  very  bones 
have  a  good  money  value  for  compost  and  sugar-refining. 
More  than  one  thousand  dollars  going  to  waste  before  o\u* 
eyes."  "Mon  alive/'  he  said,  turning  to  me,  "this  will 
amount  to  multiplied  milUons  between  the  Arkansas  and 
Rio  Grande  rivers.  It  is  all  right  and  all  wrong;  right  to 
kill  and  get  the  hides;   wrong  to  waste  the  carcass!" 

But  all  was  not  wasted.  When  the  army  of  hunters 
had  annihilated  those  massive,  sturdy  creatures,  the  hair 
and  bone  scavengers  followed  them  up  with  four-  and 
six-horse,  mule,  or  ox  teams.  They  gathered  up  and 
hauled  to  the  nearest  railroad  station  every  vestige  of 
buffalo  hair  and  bones  that  could  be  found. 

I  saw  in  1874,  the  year  before  the  great  buffalo  slaughter 
began  in  earnest,  a  rick  of  buffalo  bones,  on  the  Santa 
Fe  railroad  right-of-way,  and  twenty  miles  ahead  of  the 
track  from  Granada,  Colorado,  piled  twelve  feet  high, 
nearly  that  wide  at  the  base,  and  one-half  mile  long. 
Seven,  eight,  nine,  and  ten  dollars  per  ton  was  realized 
from  them  alone. 

So,  friend  Hickey,  after  all  it  was  not  all  waste.  It  was 
claimed  that  during  the  year  1876  one  hundred  and  fifty- 
five  thousand  hides  went  down  the  Missouri  river  on  steam- 
boats from  Montana;  that  one  hundred  and  seventy 
thousand  went  East  over  the  Santa  Fe,  and  that  two 
hundred  thousand  were  shipped  from.  Fort  Worth,  Texas. 

Now  I  do  not  vouch  for  the  accuracy  of  these  figures; 
but  I  believe  the  shipping  bills  from  all  these  points  for 


136         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

that  year  would  be  but  little  short  of  that  number,  and 
might  exceed  it. 

I  do  know  from  personal  observation  that  for  every  hide 
they  got  to  a  market  one  and  a  half  hides  were  destroyed 
on  the  range  from  various  causes.  Some  of  the  inexperi- 
enced hunters  failed  to  poison  their  buffalo-hides  in  sum- 
mer and  they  were  rendered  unmarketable  by  the  hide- 
bugs,  which  soon  made  them  worthless. 

All  hunters  agree  that  a  large  percentage  of  all  buffaloes 
were  badly  wounded,  and  walked  from  the  field  of  slaughter 
to  some  isolated  ravine,  or  brush  thicket,  and  died  a  lin- 
gering death.  And  when  found,  if ,  they  were,  the  hide 
was  unsalable.  Go  to  Laguna  Sabinas,  Laguna  Plata, 
Double  Lakes,  Mustang  Lake,  on  the  Staked  Plains,  and 
note  the  tens  of  thousands  of  buffaloes  that  were  mired 
down  and  perished  in  a  miry,  muddy  loblolly,  to  say 
nothing  of  the  many  thousands  quicksanded  in  the  Cana- 
dian, North  and  South  Red  rivers,  the  Pease,  and  the  many 
tributaries  of  the  Brazos  river. 

And  the  reason  so  many  perished  in,  this  way  was  be- 
cause for  the  last  few  years  of  their  existence,  there  were 
multiplied  numbers  of  big  and  little  outfits  camped  at  the 
most  available  fresh-water  places,  ready  to  bombard  them 
wherever  and  whenever  they  came  in  sight.  They  were 
kept  on  the  go ;  and  when  they  would  find  a  place  that  was 
free  from  a  fusillade  of  lead  from  the  big  long-range  guns, 
they  would  rush  and  crowd  in  pell-mell,  crowding,  jam- 
ming, and  tramphng  down  both  the  weak  and  the  strong, 
to  quench  a  burning  thirst.  Many  of  them  were  rendered 
insane  from  their  intolerable,  unbearable  thirst. 

Mr.  Hickey  arrived  at  our  camp  late  in  the  afternoon, 
and  found  everybody  present.  Not  a  buffalo  had  been 
seen  that  day. 


STORY  OF  THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  137 

The  next  morning  Charley  and  Hickey  went  to  the  first 
camp.  Mr.  Hickey  made  some  little  examination  of  the 
hides,  and  they  retm'ned.  A  satisfactory  deal  had  been 
made  between  them.  He  gave  Charlie  a  check  for  two 
thousand  dollars,  and  agreed  to  pay  the  balance  as  soon 
as  the  hides  reached  Fort  Griffin.  It  was  agreed  that  each 
was  to  bear  equally  the  expense  of  keeping  a  man  to  watch 
the  hides  until  Hickey  could  get  a  freight  train  to  come  and 
get  them. 

Charlie  said  he  would  move  the  present  camp  about  three 
miles  southeast,  below  the  mouth  *of  Croton  creek,  and  at 
the  head  of  the  south  breaks  of  the  Brazos,  where  the  buffa- 
loes had  not  trampled  and  destroyed  the  range  for  our 
horses,  and  he  had  found  a  splendid  spring  of  water  there, 
and  close  by  it  was  a  high  peak,  that  overlooked  the  sur- 
rounding country.  "And,"  he  added,  ''that  will  be  our 
camp  until  the  hides  are  moved  from  the  range.  All  the 
hunting  I  care  for  now  is  just  to  make  expenses  until  then. 
Then  I  will  pull  north  and  make  a  summer  hunt  in  the  Ca- 
nadian country."  , 

I  now  felt  that  I'd  better  ask  for  the  job  of  watching  the 
two  old  hide  camps.  So  I  said :  '*  You,  gentlemen,  make  me 
an  offer,  by  the  day,  to  look  after  those  hides  until  the 
freight  teams  come." 

Charlie  said:  "I  was  just  going  to  offer  you  the  job. 
Reed  said  he  would  like  the  job  himself.  We  will  fix 
some  way  between  this  and  morning.  Mr.  Hickey  is  go- 
ing to  stay  all  night,  and  that  will  give  us  plenty  of  time 
to  arrange  matters." 

From  that  on.  Reed  was  not  the  same  Cyrus.  He  noted 
to  Dockum  that  Charlie  had  made  it  a  point  to  show  fa- 
vors to  me,  giving  me,  whenever  he  could,  the  skinning  of 
the  buffaloes  closest  to  camp,  and  generally  the  best  ground 


138         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

to  drive  over,  and  that  I  had  never  skinned  but  one  killing 
of  buffaloes  that  lay  overnight;  which  all  had  a  grain  of 
truth  in  it.  Dockum  assured  him  that  there  was  no  in- 
tentional affront  given  or  meant.  The  fact  was  there  was 
a  comradeship  that  existed  between  us,  on  account  of  our 
both  being  Union  ex-soldiers,  that  Cyrus  was  a  stranger  to. 
When  Dockum  informed  me  of  Cyrus's  feelings,  I  went  to 
him  and  told  him  that  I  was  sorry  he  had  misconstrued 
Charlie's  actions;  admitted  to  him  that  I  had,  by  the  lay 
of  the  ground -and  advantage  of  teams,  been  able  to  bring 
in  a  few  more  hides  tRan  he.  One  of  his  ponies  would 
balk  at  the  most  unseasonable  times,  and  frequently  delay 
and  fret  him.     But  Cyrus  never  was  the  same  as  of  yore. 

The  next  morning,  Hickey  and  Charlie  employed  me  to 
look  after  the  hide  camps.  We  moved  that  day  to  the  place 
before  mentioned;  I  took  Hickey  out  of  the  breaks  and 
pointed  out  to  him  a  landmark.  We  separated,  and  I  came 
back  to  camp.  The  next  day  I  made  a  pad  and  rigged  me 
up  a  pair  of  rope  stirrups,  rode  one  of  the  ponies  I  had  used 
in  the  team,  and  made  a  trip  to  both  of  the  old  camps.  It 
was  stipulated  that  I  was  to  be  at  each  once  every  day. 

On  my  return  to  camp  the  third  day,  Frank,  being  alone 
in  camp,  informed  me  that  he  '^seed  a  animal"  go  in  a 
gulch  close- by  and  he  took  old  ^'Once-in-a- while."  This 
was  the  name  of  an  old  army  needle-gun  whose  firing-pin 
was  so  worn  that  one  would  have  to  snap  it  three  or  four 
times  before  it  would  explode  the  primer.  Some  shells 
it  would  not  fire  at  all,  and  again  others  would  go  at  first 
trial.     Hence,  we  nanied  that  gun  ''Once-in-a- while." 

"Yes,"  he  said,  '^I  went  there,  and  it  was  in  under  the 
overjut  in  the  head  of  the  gulch,  and  I  bent  down  and  could 
see  it,  and  it  snarled  at  me.  I  snapped  three  or  four  times, 
and  the  thing  lashed  its  tail  and  had  red  eyes." 


STORY  OF  THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  139 

I  said :  ''Why,  Frank,  you  ought  not  to  have  gone  there 
with  that  gun.  That  is  either  a  panther  or  a  cougar; 
you  might  have  been  killed  or  badly  hurt.'' 

He  said:   ''I  did  get  skeart,  and  ran  back  to  camp." 

From  what  he  told  me,  and  his  description,  of  the  place, 
I  thought  I  would  not  tackle  it  myself.  It  might  have 
kittens  in  the  cave,  or  washout  proper,  and  unless  it  was 
given  an  unerring  shot  there  might  be  a  bad  mix-up. 

I  said :  "  You  make  me  some  coffee ;  111  watch  from  the 
lookout ;  and  when  you  get  everything  ready,  come  up  and 
watch  while  I  come  down  and  eat.''  He  came  up  in  about 
twenty  minutes ;  I  handed  him  my  gun  and  went  to  camp, 
which  was  one  hundred  paces  off. 

While  I  was  eating,  Charlie  and  a  stranger  rode  into 
camp.  I  briefly  stated  the  situation,  when  the  stranger 
unbuttoned  his  shirt-cbllar  and  said: 

''This  is  what  I  got  from  a  painter  in  Arkansaw." 

And  a  horrible-looking  wound  it  had  beeii.  Commencing 
at  the  collar-bone,  and  running  to  the  lower  end  of  his  ribs, 
were  unmistakable  marks  of  all  the  claws  of  one  foot  of  the 
animal  he  had  battled  with. 

This  man  was  the  much-known  Jack  Greathouse.  I  had 
just  finished  my  meal  when  Frank  fired  and  at  the  same 
time  called  out,  "There  it  goes!" 

And  sure  enough :  out  on  the  plain  open  ground  it  was 
making  the  most  wonderful  leaps  I  have  ever  before  or 
since  seen  a  wild  animal  make.  It  was  heading  uphill, 
between  where  Frank  was  and  ourselves.  Charlie  and 
Greathouse  both  drew  their  guns  on  it,  but  withheld  their 
fire  until  it  had  passed  by  far  enough  so  there  was  no  pos- 
sible danger  of  a  glancing  bullet  striking  Frank.  They 
both  fired  at  about  the  same  time. 

The  animal  turned  and  circled  around  the  lookout  Frank 


140         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

was  on,  and  he  broke  down  the  hill  on  a  run  for  camp. 
I  met  him,  and  having  my  cartridge-belt  still  on  me,  I 
took  the  gun  from  him,  threw  in  a  cartridge  and  hurried 
on  to  the  western  slope  of  the  lookout  just  in  time  to  see 
it  was  one  of  the  largest  of  panthers,'  as  I  thought,  that 
ever  was.  Its  entrails  were  dragging  on  the  ground  as 
it  went  over  the  bank  ahd  into  the  same  cover  it  had  broken 
from,  before.     I  could  not  get  a  bead  on  it. 

Charlie,  Greathouse  and  I  were  soon  at  the  place  where 
it  took  to  cover ;  but,  peer  over  the  escarpment  as  we  would, 
from  either  side,  or  by  going  down  along  the  edge  of  the 
bank,  we  could  not  get  a  glimpse  of  it.  We  could  hear  it 
sigh,  and  whine,  and  every  once  in  a  while  it  would  make 
a  noise  like  a  long-drawn-out  yawn.  We  decided  that  the 
best  way  to  do  was  to  place  a  night-watch  at  the  entrance 
to  the  place  where  the  panther  was. 

Dockum  and  Cyrus  had  now  come  to  camp ;  and  evening 
coming  on,  we  divided  into  parties  by  twos,  and  kept  a 
constant  watch.  Charlie  and  I  took  first  watch.  We  all 
carried  and  dragged  up  dry  brush  and  woojd,  from  just  be- 
low where  a  cross-break  came  down. 

As  darkness  approached,  we  took  a  pile  of  brush,  wound 
some  green  thongs  around  it  securely,  set  this  afire  and 
dropped  it  down  over  the  escarpment.  Then  we  tossed 
sticks  and  brush  down  upon  this  from  time  to  time.  The 
flames  leaped  up,  making  fantastic  and  weird-looking  all 
the  objects  around.  Shaggy-haired  and  rough-dressed 
hunters  passed  backward  and  forward.' 

A  beautiful  calm  starlight  night!  The  almost  constant 
whining  and  yowhng  of  the  wounded  panther;  now  and 
again  the  distant  howl  of  the  gray  wolf ;  the  yelping  ven- 
triloquism of  the  snapping  coyote,  a  few  seemingly  trying 
to  make  one  believe  there  were  thousands  of  them;    the 


STORY   OF  THE    SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  141 

occasional  swish  of  the  night-hawk;  and  the  flapping 
around  and  overhead  of  the  numerous  bats  we  had  disturbed 
and  started  from  dark  recesses  in  cracks  or  crevices,  their 
favorite  hiding-places, — all  this  was  as  entertaining  as 
going  to  a  theater  or  some  other  place  of  amusement. 

And  to  us  it  was  a  diversion  from  the  constant  rush  and 
hard  work  of  the  preceding  six  weeks  or  more,  with  just 
enough  excitement  to  make  it  exhilarating. 

Our  watch  ended  long  before  anyone  thought  of  sleep. 
We  had  brought  up  from  camp  the  most  of  our  bedding 
and  spread  it  down  by  twos  close  to  the  escarpment. 
Dockum  and  Greathouse  took  the  second  waxch,  leaving 
the  last  watch  for  Cyrus  and  Frank. 

I  had  just  got  to  sleep,  and  it  was  just  at  the  close  of 
the  second  watch,  when  I  was  awakened  by  a  never-to- 
be-forgotten  ear-piercing  scream,  sounding  like  a  woman 
in  distress.  We  were  all  on  our  feet  instantly,  when, 
flop,  flounder  and  cry ;  and  finally,  the  panther  had  worked 
itself  out  to  the  edge  of  the  opening.  Lying  flat  on  its 
right  side  and  in  a  wheezy,  gasping,  guttural  noise,  as  if 
it  were  trying  to  talk,  it  ''gave  up  the  ghost."  We  all 
then  gathered  up  our  blankets  and  went  to  camp  and  to 
sleep. 

The  next  morning  Frank  went  down  to  the  gulch  and 
tied  a  rope  around  the  dead  panther,  and  we  pulled  it 
up  hand  over  tand  to  the  cut  banl^.  We  skinned  the 
panther  ''shot-pouch  fashion,"  as  the  term  is  mostly  ap- 
plied, and  stuffed  the  hide  as  tight  as  we  could  tamp  it 
with  buffalo  hair.  We  placed  it  on  its  all-fours,  and  what 
time  we  kept  it  we  had  some  fun. 

This  man  Greathouse,  who  was  afterward  universally 
known  as  "Arkansaw  Jack,"  told  me  that  at  his  camp  he 
had  a  good  saddle-horse  which  he  would  sell  me,  and  would 


142         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

loan  me  his  partner's  saddle  until  I  could  get  one.  I 
made  arrangements  for  him  to  bring  the  horse  over,  and  if 
it  suited  me  I  would  buy  it.  He  said  it  was  only  about 
six  miles  to  his  camp;  and  he  would  bring  the  horse  over 
the  next  day,  which  he  did,  and  I  bought  it. 

Cyrus  seemed  to  want  to  get  away ;  and  Charlie  sold  to 
him  the  team  and  wagon  I  had  used. 

Just  then,  Dockum  took  a  notion  that  he  wanted  to  go 
home  to  his  family  in  Kansas. 

So  it  was  arranged  that  they  would  all  go  to  Fort  Griffin, 
where  Charlie  could  get  his  check  cashed  and  settle  up  in 
full  with  all  of  them.  They  were  to  start  in  three  more 
days.  Charlie  and  I  settled  up  before  they  left,  and  I 
had  to  my  credit,  including  the  two  days  I  was  credited 
with  when  I  went  to  find  Hickey,  the  hide- buyer,  $345.75. 

Charlie  found  a  few  straggling  bands  of  buffalo,  and 
killed  quite  a  number  from  them. 

The  morning  they  all  pulled  out  for  Griffin  I  was  left 
alone,  in  charge  of  3363  hides,  less  the  200  Hadley  had 
started  with,  in  three  different  camps. 

It  was  now  the  early  part  of  April. 

As  Charfie  bade  me  '^good-by,"  he  being  the  last  one  to 
leave  the  camp,  he  said  he  would  be  back  in  six  days.  I 
had  just  three  quarts  of  flour  (for  we  had  loaned  '^Arkan- 
saw  Jack"  a  portion  of  the  flour  we  got  from  Goff)  and 
about  one-half  pound  of  coffee.  Out  of  the  twelve  pounds 
of  coffee  we  got  from  Goff  we  had  used  all  but  what  was 
left  with  me. 

I  saddled  up  and  made  the  roimds  of  the  other  camps 
and  was  back  by  midday.  After  frying  some  choice  meat 
and  making  a  cup  of  coffee,  I  ate  my  dinner  and  went  upon 
the  lookout. 

While  there  I  determined  at  the  first  opportunity  to  be 


STORY   OF  THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  143 

the  owner  of  a  pair  of  good  field-glasses.  Looking  to  the 
southwest,  some  five  or  six  miles  miles  away,  I  saw  what 
I  took  to  be  a  team  traveling  in  an  easterly  direction.  I 
looked  so  long  and  so  intently  that  my  eyes  watered,  and 
for  a  little  time  everything  blm-red.  I  made  up  my  mind 
to  find  out  for  sure  what  it  was.  I  brought  "Keno," 
my  horse,  in,  and  saddled  up.  Before  starting  I  cut  a 
china-wood  pole,  about  twelve  feet  long,  sharpened  one 
end,  tied  an  old  red  shirt  on  the  other  end,  went  up  on  the 
lookout,  and,  like  a  discoverer,  planted  my  standard. 
There  were  two  other  round-tops,  one  about  three  miles 
west,  and  the  other  about  two  miles  northeast  of  this  one. 
They  all  had  a  similarity,  and  I  wished  to  be  sure  to  not 
get  misled,  in  case  I  might  be  at  times  in  some  place 
where  I  could  not  distinguish  one  from  another  of  the  three. 
Taking  a  good  look  again  south  and  west,  I  was  satisfied 
now  it  was  a  team  I  saw.  So  I  decided  to  travel  south- 
toward  the  McKinzie  trail.  Coming  down  and  mounting 
"Keno,"  off  we  started  in  a  little  fox-trot.  After  going 
about  five  miles  I  came  to  a  well-beaten  trail,  turned  west 
on  it,  and  soon  met  the  team  in  a  depression  of  the  land. 
The  driver  was  none  other  than  Hi.  Bickerdyke.  He  told 
me  it  was  about  ten  miles  back  to  his  camp ;  that  he  and 
the  two  men  with  him  had  1700  hides,  all  in  one  camp; 
that  the  farthest  carcass  from  camp  was  not  over  one  and 
one-half  miles;  that  his  camp  was  on  a  tributary  of  the 
Salt  Fork,  coming  in  from  the  south  side.  He  had  heard 
of  our  success  through  "Arkansaw  Jack,"  who  was  at 
his  camp  a  few  days  before.  Said  he  was  ''crazy  for  a 
chew  of  tobacco."  I  had  about  one-third  of  a  plug  of 
Lorillard  with  me,  and  plenty  in  camp.  I  cut  enough 
from  the  piece  to  do  me  and  gave  him  the  rest ;  whereupon 
he  said,/' My  troubles  have  come  to  an  end." 


144         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

We  talked  for  some  minutes,  and  down  the  trail  he  went, 
going  after  supplies,  and  I  back  to  camp.  My  standard 
could  plainly  be  seen  for  three  or  four  miles  in  any  di- 
rection, at  that  time  of  the  year,  for  the  atmosphere  was 
not  hazy. 

How  different  this  first  night  alone  in  this  camp  from 
the  ones  I  spent  alone  a  few  months  before!  I  now  had 
blankets,  a  good  gun,  and  a  horse  to  ride. 

I  was  awakened  the  next  morning  by  the  gobbling  of 
turkeys,  and  for  the  next  three  weeks  there  was  an  in- 
cessant gobble!  gobble!  gobble!  The  fifth  day,  as  I 
was  going  from  the  second  to  the  first  camp,  I  came  to 
and  crossed  a  travois  trail  going  in  a  southwest  course. 
This  trail  was  made  sometime  between  the  time  I  had 
passed  here  coming  back  the  day  before  and  the  time  I 
discovered  it. 

Indians?  Yes,  sure  enough!  I  looked  all  around  me, 
but  moved  on  until  I  came  in  sight  of  the  old  iBrst  camp, 
and  saw  that  it  looked  all  right.  I  turned  back  and  rode 
to  the  travois  trail,  followed  it  about  three  miles,  and  de- 
cided that  there  might  be  two  or  three  families  in  the  out- 
fit. I  had  learned  enough  about  wild  Indians  to  know 
that  they  did  not  drag  lodge-poles  when  on  plunder  raids. 
That  when  you  saw  a  travois  trail  they  were  moving  and 
had  their  women,  children,  and  dogs  along.  Was  it  a 
visiting  party  going  to  see  the  Staked  Plains  Apaches? 
If  so,  they  had  a  pass  from  the  commanding  officer  at  Fort 
Sill.  If  not,  then  they  had  secretly  stolen  away  from  the 
agency  at  Fort  Sill.  I  felt  I  must  know  more  about  it; 
but  how  was  I  to  find  out? 

While  I  was  pondering,  I  happened  to  think  of  the  red 
shirt  and  how  I  had  advertised  myself.  I  followed  the 
trail  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  farther,  where  it  turned 


STORY   OF  THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  145 

down  a  long  narrow  draw,  then  turned  '^Keno"  to  the 
left  and  rode  to  my  own  camp.  After  dismounting  I 
threw  the  bridle-rein  on  the  ground,  went  up  on  the  look- 
out, pushed  the  flag-pole  over,  and  scanned  the  country 
over,  but  saw  no  unusual  sign. 

I  had  some  cold  meat  left  over  from  breakfast,  and  four 
biscuits.  I  put  the  biscuits  in  my  coat  pock;ets,  took  the 
meat  in  one  hand  and  the  gun  in  the  other,  and  went  up 
on  the  lookout  again  and  sat  down  and  ate  my  lunch,  sur- 
veying the  surrounding  country  as  I  ate.  After  a  short 
time  I  went  down  and  carried  my  powder,  lead,  and  all  the 
shells  and  reloading  tools  out  of  camp,  and  cached*  them 
about  one  hundred  and  fifty  yards  away;  then  I  got  on 
*'Keno"  and  rode  nearly  due  west  about  two  miles.  Com- 
ing to  some  excellent  buffalo-grass,  I  dismounted  and  let 
''  Keno  "  graze  for  nearly  half  an  hour.  When  I  remounted 
I  said,  ^'  Now,  Keno,  for  Arkansaw  Jack's  camp,  if  we  can 
find  it."  I  thought  from  what  he  had  told  us  that  a  little 
more  north  and  west,  about  four  miles,  would  strike  it. 

Keno  and  I  struck  out.  We  had  gone  about  one  mile 
and  a  half  when  we  struck  the  travois  trail  again,  heading 
southwest.  About  a  mile  farther  on  I  came  to  a  place 
where  eighteen  buffaloes  had  been  skinned,  close  to  a 
slight  ravine.  On  the  west  of  the  carcasses,  by  looking 
closely,  I  found  the  tracks  of  the  wagon  that  had  hauled 
the  hides  to  camp.  I  followed  it  up.  It  took  me  down 
the  ravine ;   but  in  another  mile  I  was  at  his  camp. 

There  were  four  men  in  camp  and  all  were  sitting  under 
an  awning,  which  they  had  made  of  poles  covered  with 
buffalo-hides.  They  were  playing,  draw  poker,  using  car- 
tridges to  ante  with.     Each  was  trying  to  win  the  others' 

♦  Cache  (French;  pronounced  cash).  A  hole  in  the  ground  used  as  a  hiding- 
place  for  provisions  or  other  articles. 


146         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

interest  in  the  piles  of  buffalo-hides  they  had  stacked  up 
around  camp.     This  I  learned  afterward. 

At  sight  of  me,  and  before  I  had  yet  dismounted,  through 
courtesy  to  a  visitor,  the  game  abruptly  closed.  Arkansaw 
Jack  recognized  me  instantly ;  and  remembering  my  name 
sang  out,  ''Hello,  Cook!  glad  to  see  you;  light  and  unsad- 
dle." 

As  I  dismounted  they  all  came  forward,  and  Arkansaw 
introduced  me  to  the  other  three  men.  After  which  I 
said,  ''Gentlemen,  there  is  a  fresh  travois  trail;  the  In- 
dians are  going  southwest,  and  they  passed  about  two 
miles  from  here." 

Jack  said,  "Get  the  horses,  boys,  quick!" 

The  horses  were  soon  saddled  up  and  one  of  the  boys, 
Charles  Emory,  who  was  known  only  as  ''Squirrel-eye" 
on  the  range,  said,  "Now,  look  here,  boys,  let's  have  an 
understanding;  ,what  are  we  going  to  do?" 

I  said:    "By  all  means  let's  understand  one  another." 

"Yes,"  said  George  Cornett,  "we  don't  want  to  bulge 
in  on  a  band  of  peaceable  Tonkaways  and  play  the  devil 
before  we  know  it." 

Squirrel-eye  said:  "Tonks  don't  travois;  they  are  Kio- 
was  or  Comanches." 

"Well,"  said  Jack,  "we  ought  to  find  out  something 
about  them;  so  here  goes." 

We  all  started  for  the  trail  with  no  better  understanding 
of  what  we  were  each  one  to  do  than  before  we  began  our 
talk. 

After  we  reached  the  trail,  Cornett  took  out  of  their  case 
a  large  pair  of  binoculars  and  said :  "Boys,  let's  ride  up  on 
that  hill  to  our  right  and  take  a  squint  over  the  country." 
When  we  arrived  at  the  top  of  the  hill  we  could  see  the 
breaks  of  the  Double  Mountain  fork  of  the  Brazos.    Cornett 


STOKY   OF  THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  147 

adjusted  his  glasses  and  looked  for  some  time  to  the  south- 
west, and  observing  no  sign  of  them  we  all  proceeded  along 
the  travois  trail.'  After  following  it  a  distance,  Cornett 
said:  ''I  believe  they  are  runaways,  and  that  they  passed 
through  here  in  the  night-time.  There  are  no  hunters 
south  of  here  and  only  one  camp  west  of  us.  They  have  a 
guide.  Some  renegade  from  them  that  lives  with  the 
Apaches  has  sneaked  into  Fort  Sill  and  he  has  piloted  them 
through  here  in  the  night,  in  order  to  keep  them  from  being 
seen.    The  next  thing  we  will  hear  of  is  soldiers  after  them." 

This  fellow  was  raised  on  the  northern  frontier  of  Texas, 
near  Henrietta ;  and  by  that  was  authorized  to  speak.  We 
accepted  his  version  of  the  affair,  and  went  back  to  Arkan- 
saw's  camp,  where  I  stayed  all  night. 

The  next  morning  I  rode  east  to  the  Indian  trail  and 
followed  back  to  where  my  trail  between  the  two  first  hide 
camps  crossed  it.  I  had  not  followed  this  trail  far  until  I 
came  in  sight  of  a  horse  ahead  of  me.  I  was  then  in  a 
sag  between  two  higher  points  of  land  on  each  side  of  me. 
I  rode  "Keno"  upon  top  of  the  one  to  my  right,  being  the 
side  my  own  camp  was  on,  but  several  miles  away.  Then 
riding  and  looking  along  I  came  up  close  to  the  animal 
near  the  edge  of  a  small  plain.  It  was  a  steel-gray  mare, 
nearly  as  large  as  the  ordinary  American  horse,  branded 
0  Z  on  the  left  shoulder.  She  was  perfectly  gentle  and  as 
sound  as  a  dollar.  And  now,  I  thought,  if  this  doesn't 
prove  to  be  some  hunter's  animal,  it's  mine.  I  dismounted 
and  by  holding  out  my  hat  and  talking  to  her,  she  let  me 
walk  up  to  her,  put  the  end  of  "Keno's"  bridle-rein  over 
her  neck,  and,  holding  it  with  one  hand,  I  loosened  my 
lariat  from  the  saddle  with  the  other,  tied  the  rope  around 
her  neck,  mounted  ''Keno,"  and  rode  on,  the  mare  leading 
up  nicely  and  traveling  by  the  side  of  "Keno." 


148         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

After  going  on  to  the  upper  hide-pile  and  seeing  that  ev- 
ery thing  was  all  right,  I  pulled  back  for  headquarters 
camp,  arriving  there  in  mid-afternoon/  The  sixth  day 
had  come  and  gone,  and  no  Charlie.  And  where  was  Had- 
ley?    He  too  should  have  been  back  long  ago. 

After  I  had  been  on  meat  straight  for  five  days  I  broke 
for  Goff's  camp,  early  the  next  morning,  only  to  find  it 
abandoned,  the  hides  all  gone,  too.  I  had  agreed  to  be  at 
all  of  our  hide  camps  once  each  day,  and  not  having  time 
to  go  to  Quinn's  and  return  in  time  to  make  my  rounds, 
and  hoping  for  Charlie's  return,  I  pulled  back  and  made  my 
regular  trip  without  bread.  Two  days  later  I  went  to 
Arkansaw  Jack's,  and  found  Cornett  there  alone,  on  meat 
straight.  I  stayed  all  night  with  him,  and  made  my  pil- 
grimage to  the  camps  the  nex.t  day.  And  to  sum  it  all  up — 
I  was  on  meat  straight  for  fourteen  days. 

To  make  a  long  story  short,  Charlie  was  twenty-one 
days  getting  back  to  camp.  But  he  had  had  a  glorious 
spree.  He  got  his  check  cashed  at  the  post  sutler's ;  paid 
all  the  boys  up,  and  deposited  all  that  was  coming  to  me 
with  the  sutler,  taking  his  receipt  for  it.  He  had  flour, 
coffee,  sugar,  and  lots  of  different  kinds  of  delicacies,  and 
a  brand-new  saddle  for  me. 

He  said:  ''I  never  intended  to  get  drunk;  but  what 
could  a  fellow  do  ?  There  were  about  thirty  outfits  camped 
on  the  Clear  fork  of  the  Brazos,  under  big  pecan  trees; 
and  we  all  had  a  time.  Oh,  you'll  hear  about  it;  and  I 
might  just  as  well  tell  you.  I  got  drunk  one  day  and  went 
to  sleep  under  a  big  pecan  tree,  close  to  the  edge  of  the  river- 
bank,  and  some  of  the  fellers  set  that  stuffed  panther  in 
front  of  me.  They  had  put  glass  marbles  in  the  eye-holes, 
and  when  I  waked  up  it  took  me  by  surprise,  and  I  jumped 
back  and  fell  over  the  bank  into  ten  feet  of  water.     And 


STORY  OF  THE   SOUTHWEST  PLAINS.  149 

if  they  hadn't  been  there  to  fish  me  out  I  guess  I'd  have 
drowned  my  fool  self." 

All  the  tune  he  was  talking  he  was  making  bread,  and 
flying  around,  hurrying  everything  along,  demeaning  him- 
self and  bemoaning  his  jate,  as  he  called  it.  Said  he  did 
not  want  to  get  drunk;  for  he  knew  what  his  sufferings 
with  remorse  were  when  sobering  up.  *'Now,"  said  he, 
"please  be  as  easy  on  me  as  you  can.  I  know  I  have  dis- 
appointed you;  and  I'm  sorry  for  it." 

Poor  fellow!  when  I  told  him  that  I  was  one  among 
many  other  unfortunates  who  could  deeply  sympathize 
with  him,  he  broke  down  and  cried  like  a  child. 

Charlie  said  he  could  not  hear  a  thing  of  Hadley.  And 
when  we  did  hear  from  him,  it  was  to  learn  that  he  had 
gotten  off  the  Fort  Griffin  trail  and  had  gone  a  long  way 
south  to  the  Phantom  Hill  country.  And  as  he  was  a 
man  that  never  was  in  a  hurry  and  loved  to  talk  as  long 
as  anyone  would  listen  to  him,  it  was  no  wonder  he  had 
taken  seven  weeks  to  go  to  Fort  Griffin  and  back,  about 
seventy-five  miles.  And  wh*en  he  did  come  he  drove  into 
camp  with  a  four-mule  team  and  new  thimble-skein  wagon, 
having  traded  his  oxen  and  freight  wagon  for  the  rig  he 
brought  in. 

He  was  by  no  means  profuse  in  excuses  for  his  long 
absence.  All  he  said  was  that  he  missed  his  way,  and  had 
a  chance  to  trade  for  the  mule  outfit  and  had  to  wait  nearly 
three  weeks  for  one  of  the  mule  teams  to  come  from  Fort 
Worth.  After  hearing  this  and  how  he  bragged  on  his 
mules,  it  exasperated  me  so  that  I  told  him  he  was  one 
man  that  I  would  not  go  to  a  dog-fight  with,  let  alone 
trucking  up  with  him  on  the  frontier.  He  made  no  reply 
whatever. 

Charlie  called  upon  him  for  a  statement  for  the  hides  he 


150         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

left  camp  with,  and  for  an  invoice  for  the  stuff  he  brought 
back.  All  he  could  tell  was  that  he  got  $325  for  the  hides ; 
that  the  stuff  he  brought  back  cost  $150 ;  that  he  had  given 
$100  of  the  balance  that  he  got  for  the  hides  for  boot  be- 
tween teams,  and  that  he  intended  to  make  everything 
come  out  all  right  when  he  got  through  freighting  the 
hides. 

It  did  not  take  Charlie  and  Hadley  long  to  settle  up; 
and  Mr.  Hadley  pulled  out.  He  and  Cyrus  meeting  in 
Griffin  went  into  partnership  in  hunting.  Charlie,  by 
Hickey^s  request,  had  staked  a  trail  from  Quinn's  to  our 
camp.  Every  two  miles  or  so  he  had  driven  a  stake,  on 
the  highest  places  he  passed  over,  with  a  thin  box-lid 
nailed  to  it,  and  the  words  written  on  the  lid :  "To  Hart's 
Camp." 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Hides  Bound  for  the  Railroad. — I  Go  Into  Partnership. — We  Start 
North. — Grand  Wild  Animal  Show. — The  Wichita  Mountains. — 
Wrong-wheel  Jones. — I  killed  Eighty-eight  BufiFalo. — I  was  Ver- 
digris-poisoned.— Traded  Eagle  Feathers  for  Pony. — Back  South 
for  a  Winter's  Hunt. 

The  freighters  were  instructed  to  look  for  these  stakes 
after  leaving  Quinn's.  Five  days  after  Charlie's  arrival, 
the  freight  teams  arrived  in  camp.  Each  wagon  had  on 
a  big  rack,  built  Uke  hay-racks.  The  hides  were  piled  in 
this  rack  with  a  lap  and  boomed  down  tight  like  a  load  of 
hay.  I  have  seen  200  bull-hides  piled  on  one  wagon.  A 
dry  bull-hide,  as  a  rule,  would  weigh  about  fifty  pounds. 
So  the  reader  may  have  some  idea  of  a  train  of  six  yokes 
of  oxen  to  the  team,  lead  and  trail  wagon  to  each  team, 
the  lead  wagon  hauling  nearly  200  hides,  and  the  trail 
hauling  from  100  to  150.  In  bad  places  the  trail  was 
imcoupled  while  the  lead  wagon  was  drawn  to  good  going. 
Then  the  driver  would  go  back  and  bring  up  his  trail 
wagon,  couple  on,  and  proceed. 

It  was  quite  a  sight  to  see  an  outfit  of  twenty-five  teams, 
as  was  frequently  the  case,  weaving  its  way  through  the 
heart  of  the  range.  After  loading  at  the  camps,  I  piloted 
the  freighters  to  our  first  camp,  and  my  services  were  ren- 
dered to  Hart  and  Hickey.  By  this  time  Quinn's  was 
getting  to  be  quite  a  headquarters  for  the  hunters;  so 
CharUe  and  I  pulled  for  their  place. 

When  we  got  there  there  were  not  less  than  twenty 
outfits,  large  and  small,  there.  Some  were  going  to  the 
Canadian,  up  in  the  Panhandle,  others  were  going  west 

(151) 


152         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

up  the  McKenzie  trail  to  the  Whitefish  country  and  vicin- 
ity. Not  one  there  knew  or  ever  heard  of  the  0  Z  brand. 
While  here,  Hart  changed  his  mind  about  the  Canadian 
hunt,  and  decided  he  would  go  to  the  Whitefish  country. 
He  believed  from  what  he  had  heard  that  we  were  near 
the  line  of  the  second  division  of  the  great  herds.  He 
argued  that  the  buffaloes  were  in  three  grand  divisions: 
those  from  British  America  coming  south  in  the  summer, 
as  far  as  the  Platte  river,  and  returning  north  in  the  fall; 
those  in  central  western  Texas  going  north  to  the  Platte 
in  summer,  and  returning  south  in  the  fall;  and  all  from 
the  Staked  Plains  region  down  to  the  Rio  Grande  were 
located,  and  they  traveled  east,  west,  north  and  south  a 
certain  distance,  heading  the  wind.  Part  of  all  of  which 
was  fact. 

But  in  six  months  more  I  knew  more  about  the  buffaloes 
than  I  did  then.  For  all  buffaloes  had  their  nostrils  for 
their  protection.  They  were  keen  of  scent,  and  would 
run  quicker  from  scent  than  sight  or  sound. 

I  remember  that  in  the  Wolf  creek  country  north  of 
the  Canadian,  in  July  of  this  same  year,  the  country  was 
full  of  buffaloes;  and  there  were  some  of  them  far  north 
yet  of  the  Arkansas  river.  The  wind,  what  there  was  at 
a  certain  time,  came  from  the  southwest  for  seven  con- 
secutive days,  and  every  buffalo  was  either  traveling  or 
headed  that  way ;  and  on  the  eighth  day  the  wind  changed 
to  the  east  about  midnight,  and  ,blew  pretty  strong  all 
the,  next  day.  And  all  day  long  the  buffaloes  moved 
eastward.  That  night  there  was  heavy  thunder  and 
sharp  lightning  in  the  south;  and  just  before  daylight 
the  wind  whipped  to  the  south  and  rain  began  to  fall. 
As  soon  as  it  was  light  we  noticed  the  buffaloes  were  headed 
south,  and  moving  en  masse. 


STORY   OF  THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  153 

Then  again :  In  the  following  November,  while  hunting 
on  a  little  tributary  of  Red  river,  when  they  were  on  their 
southward  swing,  there  came  up  a  '^norther,"  a  common 
term  used  in  the  southwest  for  a  sudden  cold  spell,  with 
the  wind  generally  coming  from  the  north.  For  three  days 
they  were  headed  north  and  northwest.  So  I,  and  all 
hunters  of  any  observation,  would  be  justifiable  in  say- 
ing that  when  unmolested,  as  a  rule  their  heads  were  to- 
ward the  wind. 

Anothe/  characteristic  about  them  was  the  family  tie. 
I  have  heard  old  hunters  who  grew  up  on  the  border- 
land of  the  last  great  range  declare  that,  "Where  little, 
isolated  and  disconnected  bands  were  seen,  on  either  side 
or  rear  of  the  great  mass,  they  were  all  related,  generally 
having  some  old  cow  for  a  leader." 

While  here  at  Quinn's  I  met  a  namesake  who  wanted  a 
partner.  He  was  a  tall,  sinewy,  fine-looking  plainsman. 
Had  a  family  in  northern  Kansas  and  a  homestead  that  a 
succession  of  drouths  had  driven  him  from,  to  get  means 
to  support  his  family ;  and  the  chase  had  captivated  him. 
He  had  followed  the  buffaloes  from  Sawlog  creek,  north 
of  the  Arkansas  river,  to  the  Clear  Fork  of  the  Brazos. 
He  had  a  good  heavy  team ;  and  with  a  neighbor  boy  had 
done  well,  from  a  financial  standpoint. 

He  sold  300  hides  at  Dodge  City,  Kansas,  and  did  not 
know  that  it  was  against  the  law  to  hunt  for  the  hides  in 
his  own  State  imtil  after  he  had  sold  them.  That  was  his 
midsummer  hunt. 

He  then  came  south,  and  made  an  early  fall  hunt  on  the 
Washita,  in  the  Panhandle  of  Texas,  selling  the  hunt  for 
$400.  Then  he  made  a  late  fall  hunt  on  the  North  Fork  of 
Red  river,  getting  $300  worth  of  hides.  Both  of  these 
last  hunts  he  sold  to  Rath  &  Wright  at  Fort  Elliott. 


154         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

His  winter  hunt  was  made  on  California  creek,  between 
Quinn's  and  Fort  Griffin,  together  with  a  few  days'  hunt 
on  the  Clear  Fork  of  the  Brazos.  All  of  the  last  two  netted 
him  S471.     He  was  paying  the  boy  $25  per  month. 

He  told  me  that  he  had  sent  most  of  his  money  to  his 
family  from  Dodge  City,  Fort  ElHott  and  Fort  Griffin 
to  their  home  in  Kansas ;  that  he  wished  to  make  a  sum- 
mer hunt  on  Commission  creek,  and  the  Wolf  creek  country, 
northwest  of  the  Antelope  hills  and  north  of  the  Canadian 
river,  in  the  Panhandle  of  Texas;  and  after  making  the 
summer  hunt  he  would  retire  from  the  range. 

"Now,"  said  he,  "I  would  Uke  to  have  you  for  a  part- 
ner, if  you  can  see  your  interest  that  way."  . 

I  told  him  about  my  land  claim  in  Nueces  county;  and 
that  I  was  going  to  Fort  Griffin,  and  from  there  to  Albany, 
the  county  seat  of  Shackleford  county,  the  county  Fort 
Griffin  was  in,  and  from  there  I  intended  to  commence 
the  establishment  of  my  claim  to  the  land  through  an 
attorney ;  and  not  being  in  possession  of  the  original  war- 
rant for  the  land,  it  would  take  some  time  to  perfect  my 
claim;  that  I  did  not  want  to  be  on  expense  during  the 
time  it  took  to  establish  the  validity  of  my  rights ;  that  I 
was  open  to  a  proposition  of  hunting,  but  not  of  skinning 
buffaloes  as  a  specialty. 

He  had  injured  one  of  his  eyes,  and  wanted  me  to  do 
the  principal  killing.  He  said  he  was  going  to  Griffin, 
then  to  take  the  western  cow  trail,  that  crossed  the  North 
Fork  of  Red  river,  in  a  ^ap  of  the  Wichita  mountains ; 
also  the^South  Canadian  at  the  Antelope  hills,  and  on  to 
Commission  creek,  where  the  Fort  Dodge  and  Fort  Elliott 
trail  struck  it.    And  would  I  give  him  an  answer  in  Griffin? 

I  told  him  I  would. 

I  told  Charlie  of  my  talk  with  Cook ;  and  that  I  believed 


STORY   OF  THE   SOUTHWEST  PLAINS.  155 

I  would  go  with  him.  He  replied  that  he  always  said 
that  he  never  wanted  to  go  partner  in  any  kind  of  business ; 
but  if  I  would  not  stay  with  him  any  other  way,  he  would 
take  me  into  full  partnership. 

I  said  had  I  known  that  before  it  might  have  been  differ- 
ent; but  I  had  gone  so  far  now  that  I  did  not  think  it 
right  to  break  square  off  with  the  other  man.  ^'And  I 
have  never  mentioned  a  partnership  with  you,  for  I  knew 
your  mind  in  relation  to  it  long  ago." 

His  only  reply  was  that  he  hoped  I  would  have  the  best 
of  success.  We  separated  at  Quinn's  and  did  not  meet 
again  until  early  in  1877. 

Before  Cook  and  I  left  for  Griffin  I  put  my  new  saddle 
on  the  0  Z  mare,  the  one  I  had  picked  up  on  the  Indian 
trail.  I  had  not  tried  to  ride  her  before.  Gentle  as  she 
seemed  to  be,  I  would  not  take  any  chances  in  trying  her, 
for  fear  she  might  be  a  chronic  bucker;  and  there  being 
no  crowd  around  to  run  her  in  case  I  was  thrown,  I  thought 
to  let  the  trial  test  go  until  a  favorable  opportunity,  which 
this  seemed  to  be,  and  the  first  real  good  one  to  present 
itself.  She  paid  no  attention  to  saddling,  and  when  I 
mounted  her  she  moved  off  nice  and  gingerly,  and  proved 
to  be  a  camp  pet. 

The  next  morning  after  I  arrived  at  Griffin  I  met  Cyrus 
Reed.  He  and  Hadley  were  now  in  partnership,  and 
were  outfitted  for.  a  hunt  to  be  made  near  the  head  of  the 
Double  Mountain  Fork  of  the  Brazos.  Cyrus  read  a  bill 
of  sale  to  me  that  he  had  in  his  possession  for  the  steel 
gray  0  Z  mare  I  had.  It  purported  to  be  given  to  him 
by  a  man  named  Thomas  Hubbard.  The  consideration 
was  a  Sharp's  rifle  and  S14  in  money.  It  was  dated  at 
Fort  Griffin,  and  gave  a  complete  description  of  the  ani- 
mal:  "dark  gray,  branded  0  Z  on  left  shoulder." 


156         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

On  the  first  impulse  I  felt  that  this  bill  of  sale  was  bogus. 
I  asked  where  Hubbard  lived. 

"Oh/'  said  he,  ''he — lives — somewhere — in  Kansas." 
I  didn't  ask  him  where. 

''Well,"  I  said,  "is  there  any  reliable  person  here  "that 
knows  him?"     He  didn't  know. 

I  said,  "Let  me  have  that  paper.  Who  witnessed  it? 
Who  executed  it?  I  must  know  all  about  it."  He  would 
not  hand  me  the  bill  of  sale. 

I  said:  "Just  let  the  0  Z  horse  alone.  I'll  lay  this 
case  before  Johnny  Lorin,  the  sheriff  of  this  county.  He 
is  right  over  there  at  Jackson's  store.  I  am  willing  to 
turn  the  mare  over  to  him,  if  you  will  give  him  the  bill  of 
sale,  until  we  can  locate  this  man  Hubbard." 

No ;  he  wanted  his  mare. 

I  went  to  camp ;  led  the  mare  up  to  Jackson's  store, 
and  found  the  sheriff.  He  was  talking  with  Captain  Mil- 
let, of  the  firm  of  Millet,  Ellison  &  Deweese,  a  large  cattle 
outfit.  As  I  laid  the  case  before  the  sheriff,  Captain  Mil- 
let took  in  the  situation.  He  believed  the  bill  of  sale  was 
a  fraud.  We  all  three  hunted  Reed  up,  and  before  we  were 
done  with  him,  he  did  not  seem  anxious  to  get  the  mare. 

The  captain  and  the  sheriff  both  advised  me  to  keep  the 
mare  in  my  possession  for  want  of  better  proof  of  the  va- 
lidity of  the  bill  of  sale. 

The  facts  were,  that  Hadley  had  seen  the  mare  when  he 
came  to  our  camp,  after  his  long  absence;  heard  Charlie 
tell  him  -how  I  had.  found  her ;  he  had  walked  all  around 
her;  looked  in  her  mouth  and  looked  her  well  over;  and 
after  he  left  thought  that  a  bill  of  sale  was  a  cheap  way  to 
get  her.  But  it  did  not  pan  out,  as  the  miner  would  say. 
He  had  used  Cjrrus  for  a  stool-pigeon,  and  had  taken  the 
name  of  Hubbard  in  vain,  if  any  such  person  ever  existed. 


STORY   OF  THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  157 

I  now  told  Cook  that  I  would  cast  my  lot  with  him  for  a 
summer  hunt  to  the  north.  I  bought  a  new  wagon  and 
harness;  hitched  "Keno"  and  the  0  Z  mare  together, 
which  made  me  a  fair  team.  Cook  and  I  were  to  bear 
share  and  share  alike  all  the  expenses,  and  the  same  with 
the  profits.  We  hired  a  Mexican  called  Pedro  to  skin 
buffaloes  at  20  cents  per  hide,  and  we  would  board  him 
whether  at  work  or  idle.  The  boy,  Jimmie  Dunlap,  con- 
tinued on  at  $25  per  month,  work  or  play.  We  bought  our 
flour,  groceries  and  ammunition  of  Jackson.  I  laid  in  a 
good  supply,  and  after  counting  out  the  price  of  my  sad- 
dle, wagon,  harness,  and  some  clothing,  I  had  just  $106 
left  from  all  sources.  I  had  received  $105  as  camp  watch 
and  had  $12  of  the  $96  I  had  brought  from  New  Mexico. 

So  one  fine  morning  we  left  the  Clear  Fork  and  made  good 
daily  drives  to  Commission  creek,  some  250  miles,  without 
incident.  The  Mexican  rode  mostly  with  me  and  Jimmie 
Dunlap  with  the  other  Cook,  whose  given  name  was  Charles, 
and  whom,  hereafter,  I  will  call  Charlie,  as  I  did  the  famous 
hunter.  Hart. 

We  caught  up  with  the  rear  of  the  buffaloes  at  Red  river. 
We  camped  one  night  at  the  gap  of  the  Wichita  Mountains, 
where  the  great  western  cattle  trail  crossed  the  North  Fork 
of  Red  river.  This  is  the  trail  that  200,000  head  of  Texas 
cattle  passed  over  during  the  summer  drive  of  1881. 

From  the  summit  of  one  of  these  western  spurs  of  the 
beautiful  Wichita  Mountains,  I  got  a  view  of  an  inland 
empire-to-be.  I  had  purchased  an  elegant  pair  of  long- 
range  field-glasses  of  Mr.  Conrad,  the  post  sutler  at  Fort 
Griffin,  and  with  these  I  had  a  view  that  seldom  falls  to 
the  lot  of  mankind  for  variety  of  scenery.  The  great  herds 
of  buffalo  were  in  sight  from  any  point  of  view,  east,  west, 
north  and  soitth,  but  the  heaviest,  thick,  dark  mass  was 


158         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

many  miles  to  the  west.  Skirting  the  edge  of  the  table- 
lands, on  the  northern  line  of  the  Llano  Estacado,  north- 
west as  far  as  the  vision  extended,  were  to  be  seen  the  seem- 
ingly countless  bison.  Looking  down  the  Otter  creek 
way  were  many  scattering  bands  of  antelope ;  and  yonder 
to  the  southwest  were  three  big  gi-ay  wolves  following  a 
limping  buflfalo,  whose  leg  perhaps  some  hunter  had  broken. 

Coming  down  off  of  that  mountain,  east  of  me  were  hun- 
dreds of  wild  turkeys;  looking  back  adown  the  trail  we 
came  over  and  on  still  south  of  Red  river,  on  a  big  flat  a& 
large  as  two  Congressional  townships,  could  be  seen  the 
herd  of  3000  Texas  cattle  that  we  had  passed  by  on  the 
Wichita  river.  Even  the  covered  cook-wagon  was  plainly 
to  be  seen  in  the  rear  of  the  long-strung-out  herd,  on  its 
way  to  Ogalalla,  Nebraska,  and  finally  destined  to  the 
Wind  river  country  in  Montana. 

Looking  northward,  coming  down  the  trail  is  a  covered 
wagon  and  a  buggy  and  thirty-two  cow-ponies  being  driven 
by  two  men,  whom  I  learned  afterward  were  on  their  way 
to  Cleburne,  Texas,  after  2500  head  of  cattle,  to  stock  a 
range  on  the  Cimarron  in  the  southwestern  part  of  Kansas. 

Yes,  Sheridan  was  right.  We  hunters  were  making  it 
possible  for  this  to  be  done.  As  I  turned  away  from  this 
inspiring  scene  I  felt  that  I  had  witnessed  the  greatest 
animal  show  on  earth. 

Coming  on  up  the  trail  to  the  Antelope  hills,  we  crossed 
the  South  Canadian  and  left  the  trail,  taking  a  northwest 
course  across  a  trackless  broken  country  to  Commission 
creek,  where  we  heard  the  sound  of  the  big  fifties  and  the 
more  rifie-Uke  crack  of  the  44's.  Our  first  night's  camp 
on  this  creek  was  with  Wrong- wheel  Jones.  He  had  been 
in  this  camp  ten  days  and  had  600  hides,  an  average  of 
sixty  per  day,  with  three  men  employed. 


STORY   OF  THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  159 

There  were  three  Joneses  on  the  range  at  this  time. 
Buffalo  Jones,  Dirty-face  Jones,  and  Wrong-wheel  Jones. 
The  latter  got  his  nickname  the  summer  before.  He  had 
broken  down  the  right  hind  wheel  of  his  wagon.  The  Carr 
&  Causey  outfit  came  along  by  his  camp  the  day  the  acci- 
dent happened.  They  told  him  they  had  passed  an  aban- 
doned wagon  just  like  his  in  some  sand-hills  on  Red  Deer, 
about  eight  miles  back,  and  that  by  following  their  tracks 
back  he  could  find  it  easily.  So  Jones  harnessed  up  his 
ponies,  rode  one,  and  led  the  other,  taking  along  a  pair  of 
stretchers  and  a  chain,  went  the  eight  miles,  and  found  the 
wagon.  And  the  left  hind  wheel  was  the  only  one  of  the 
four  but  what  was  entirely  useless. 

He  came  back  to  camp  and  said  that  "The  right  hind 
wheel  had  six  spokes  broken  in  it,  and  that  he  couldn't 
use  it  at  all.  The  left-hand  hind  wheel  would  have  done 
first-rate;   but  it  was  for  the  wrong  side." 

His  two  men,  that  were  in  camp  at  the  time,  commenced 
laughing  at  him. 

"What  are  you  fellers  laffin'  about?" 

One  of  the  men,  known  on  the  range  as  "Morning-star 
Dan,"  asked  him,  "Why  he  did  not  bring  the  left  wheel 
along?" 

"What  do  you  reckon  I  want  of  two  left  hind  wheels?" 
he  replied. 

At  this  the  two  men  fairly  roared  with  laughter.  Jones 
would  look  at  them  and  then  at  his  broken  wheel.  Grad- 
ually the  truth  daioned  upon  him,  and  he  joined  in  the  laugh- 
ter, and  said,  "Why,  yes,  I  could  turn  that  other  wheel 
around  and  make  it  fit,  couldn't  I?" 

So  he  made  another  trip  and  this  time  he  dragged  in  the 
left  hind  wheel.  From  that  time  on  he  was  known  as 
"Wrong- wheel  Jones."  '    ,  , 


160         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

There  were  five  other  outfits,  besides  Wrong- wheel,  on 
this  creek.  And,  as  it  was  close  to  the  military  trail,  the 
hunters  would  go  a  long  way  for  hides  and  bring  them 
in  from  ten  or  twelve  miles  distance,  when  they  could  not 
find  them  nearer  their  camp.  This  was  in  order  to  get 
better  freight  rates  to  the  railroad  at  Dodge  City. 

Charlie  Cook  and  I  decided  to  pull  west  by  a  little  north 
for  Wolf  creek,  where  we  arrived  the  evening  of  the  day 
we  left  Wrong-wheel  Jones's  camp.  Here  was  fine  hunt- 
ing. We  had  been  at  this,  our  first  Wolf  creek  camp, 
about  twenty  days  before  we  heard  another  hunter's  gun 
in  close  proximity  to  our  camp.  In  that  twenty  days  we 
had  secured  500  hides,  or  an  average  of  twenty-five  per 
day. 

I  started  out  to  do  the  killing  the  next  morning  after  tve 
came  to  this  camp.  There  were  buffaloes  in  sight  in  nearly 
every  direction.  About  three-fourths  of  a  mile  east  of 
camp  and  near  the  route  we  come  over  the  day  before, 
there  was  a  band  of  some  300  head.  I  chose  i:hem  on  ac- 
coimt  of  the  wind  and  the  lay  of  the  ground.  I  got  up 
quite  close  and  had  as  fine  a  first  shot  as  I  ever  had,  before 
or  since.  They  were  headed  to  the  wind,  and  I  had  come 
on  to  them  quartering  it.  There  was  a  large  cow  standing 
somewhat  in  the  lead.  I  pulled  down  for  the  regulation 
spot,  and  fired.  To  my  astonishment,  I  shot  her  in  the 
jaw.  The  shot  startled  the  herd,  and  the  cow,  raising  her 
head  as  high  as  she  could  and  holding  it  high,  off  to  one  side, 
began  turning  around  and  around  not  knowing  or  caring 
where  she  was  going — shaking  her  head  violently  as  if 
she  had  Saint  Vitus  dance,  and  all  the  time  coming  closer 
to  me  each  circle  she  made.  I  whaled  away  at  her  again, 
this  time  breaking  her  right  front  leg  above  the  knee. 
At  this  shot  she  bolted  past  me,  running  in  a  straight  line 


STORY   OF  THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  161 

toward  our  camp  with  about  fifty  head  following  her.  I 
began  pumping  lead  at  them  as  fast  as  I  could  load  and 
fire,  until  they  were  over  200  yards  from  me  and  not  an 
animal  fell. 

I  straightened  up,  picked  up  my  rest-sticks,  and,  in 
looking  around  saw  that  the  others,  that  had  not  followed 
the  cow,  were  nearly  half  a  mile  away,  and  walking 
slowly. 

On  looking  to  what  had  been  my  rear  while  I  was  shoot- 
ing, I  saw  a  small  band  slowly  moving  toward  me,  about 
one-fourth  of  a  mile  distant.  I  stooped  over,  and  taking 
long  strides  I  hurried  to  cross  the  wind  so  that  they  might 
not  scent  me,  and  I  gained  a  point  of  vantage  about  200 
yards  from  where  they  were  grazing  along  very  slowly. 

And  here  now  I  would  make  a  killing.  Taking  the  best 
shot  that  presented  itself,  I  fired  and  the  bullet  went  away 
to  the  right  and  kicked  up  a  dust  two  hundred  yards  be- 
yond them.  They  all  turned  back  the  way  they  came 
from,  and  I  jumped  up  and  ran,  following  them  until  they 
stopped,  when  I  dropped  flat  upon  the  ground.  Some 
had  turned  their  heads  and  were  looking  back  in  the  di- 
rection where  I  lay. 

I  gradually  rose  up  into  a  sitting  position  as  soon  as 
they  quit  looking,  and  shot  at  the  nearest  one,  and  off 
the  whole  band  went.  I  gave  them  six  parting  shots  and 
not  a  bison  fell.  What  kind  of  a  hunter  had  Charlie  Cook 
for  a  partner?  Great  Scott!  here  was  a  golden  oppor- 
tunity, and  no  results.  Then  I  got  fidgety  and  went  to 
camp.  Charhe  had  been  watching  me  through  my  field- 
glasses,  and  when  he  saw  that  the  broken-legged  cow  and 
the  band  that  followed  her  would  cross  the  creek  a  little 
way  below  camp,  he  struck  down  the  creek  with  a  belt 
full  of  cartridges  and  seventy-five  extra  rounds  in  a  haver- 


162         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

sack.  Just  as  they  all  got  out  a  little  way  from  the  west 
bank  of  the  creek  and  had  slowed  down  to  a  slow  walk, 
he  shot  the  leader  through  the  lungs,  and  the  next  one  the 
same  way.  Noticing  the  broken-legged  cow  about  the 
middle  of  the  band,  as  it  was  strung  out,  he  gave  her  a 
shot.  By  this  time  the  first  one  he  had  shot  lay  down 
and  others  were  hooking  her,  and  the  result  was  he  got 
what  is  called  "a  stand,"  and  killed  thirty-seven  of  them, 
and  could  easily  have  exterminated  the  band,  but  what 
were  left  of  them  were  mostly  yearlings  and  two-year-olds 
which  would  be  called  kip  hides,  the  price  of  which  we  were 
warned  would  not  bring  to  exceed  75  cents  apiece  that 
year,  and  the  buyers  claimed  they  did  not  want  them  at 
aU. 

I  could  hear  the  sound  of  CharUe's  gun  as  I  was  on  my 
•road  to  camp.  But  I  did  not  think  of  him  in  connection 
with  it,  on  account  of  his  affected  eye;  but  on  arriving 
at  camp  I  learned  it  was  he. 

The  boys  had  both  teams  hitched  up  and  were  about  to 
start  in  the  direction  I  had  been  shooting. 

I  said,  ''Boys,  I  did  not  kill  one;  I'm  no  good." 

Jimmie  said:  ''Maybe  your  gun  is  no  good.  Did  you 
look  at  the  sights  before  you  left  camp?  Charlie  did  the 
same  thing  last  fall  on  the  Washita.  '  He  shot  away  about 
thirty  cartridges  before  he  knew  what  was  the  matter." 

I  picked  up  my  gun  and  looked,  and  sure  enough!  the 
front  bead  had  slipped  in  the  slot  on  the  gun-barrel. 

There  was  a  large  cottonwood  tree  about  110  yards 
from  my  wagon.  I  had  the  Mexican  tack  a  box-lid  onto 
the  tree,  with  a  charcoal  in  the  center  of  it.  The  circle 
was  eight  inches  in  diameter.  I  took  a  rest  off  of  the  hind 
wheel  of  the  wagon,  fired,  and  missed  the  tree. 

Just  then  Charlie  came  into  camp,  and  finding  out  what 


STORY  OF  THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  163 

my  troubles  were,  he  said,  ''I  am  glad  you  found  it  was 
not  your  fault." 

We  moved  the  bead  block  into  the  slot  to  where  it  had 
slipped  from,  and  I  fired  again,  getting  inside  the  circle 
this  time.  Then  I  was  pleased,  and  confidence  in  myself 
was  again  restored. 

We  all  went  to  the  killing,  and  were  as  busy  as  bees 
until  the  thirty-seven  were  skinned  and  the  hides  were  in 
camp.  That  same  evening  I  killed  thirteen  more  buffaloes, 
and  the  next  day  eighteen  more. 

After  the  experience  related  above  I  never  picked  up 
my  gun  but  what  I  would  see  to  it  that  the  sights  were  all 
right.  All  that  summer  I  did  most  of  the  killing,  but  mostly 
with  Charlie's  gun;  for  my  own  gun  had  hoodooed  me. 
If  I  made  a  wild  shot,  I  examined  the  front  sight.  Any 
hunter  will  make  wild  shots  sometimes.  But  that  particu- 
lar gun  got  on  my  nerves.  I  would  keep  thinking  of  and 
talking  about  that  lost  opportunity. 

So  after  a  few  days  Charlie  said:  ''Now,  John,  when 
you  do  the  killing,  take  my  gun  and  leave  me  yours;" 
which  I  did  thereafter. 

Jimmie  had  a  condemned  army  gim,  the  old  Long  Tom ; 
and  Pedro,  the  Mexican,  had  a  Remington  revolver  that 
he  called  his  pistolie. 

Frequently,  in  a  killing,  the  hunter  would  leave  badly 
wounded  buffaloes  when  in  a  hurry  to  go  to  another  band. 
In  such  cases  the  skinners  would  give  them  their  last  shot, 
if  they  were  not  dead  when  they  arrived  on  the  skinning- 
ground. 

After  we  had  been  in  this  camp  -about  twenty  days,  the 
hunting  was  not  as  profitable  as  we  liked,  and  hearing 
other  guns  down  the  creek  we  decided  to  hunt  for  another 
camp.     Charlie  and  I  went  up  the  creek  a  good  half- 


164         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

day's  ride  and  found  fair  hunting,  to  which  we  moved 
our  camp  the  next  day,  and  the  day  following  I  made  the 
biggest  killing  of  all  my  three  years'  hunting. 

It  happened  about  midday.  The  weather  was  quite 
hot ;  for  it  was  now  the  latter  part  of  June.  These  buffaloes 
were  undoubtedly  very  thirsty,  for  they  came  down  to  the 
creek  from  a  broad  plain  to  the  northwest,  and  had  prob- 
ably been  bombarded  from  the  Beaver  creek  waters  to 
the  north  when  they  were  in  a  thirsty  condition. 

There  must  have  been  more  tjian  a  thousand  of  them. 
They  came  on  to  the  creek  in  a  wild,  pell-mell  run.  After 
drinking  they  came  out  on  a  fiat  about  150  yards  from 
the  creek,  on  the  opposite  side  from  where  they  entered 
it.  There  they  stopped  and  commenced  lying  down.  By 
the  time  I  got  up  within  good  gunshot,  perhaps  half  of  them 
were  lying  down.  At  this  time  they  had  all  shed  their 
last  year's  growth  of  hair.  Some  that  were  standing 
seemed  to  be  sound  asleep.  I  was  not  more  than  eighty 
steps  away  when  I  began  shooting.  They  were  a  mixed 
herd — very  old  and  young  bulls,  old  and  younger  cows, 
then  all  ages  from  red  spring  calves  up.  I  shot  a  tre- 
mendously large  bull  first.  All  he  did  was  to  '^ cringe"  a 
little.  Not  half  of  those  lying  down  arose  at  the  report 
of  the  gun.  After  making  three  good  dead  shots  those 
closest  to  me  moved  off  a  little  toward  the  ci-eek.  Getting 
in  a  good  shot  at  the  leader,  I  stopped  him  and  that  stopped 
the  rest. 

I  now  had,  what  I  had  so  often  heard  about  but  had 
never  actually  seen  before,  a  stand.  Charlie  Hart,  while 
I  was  with  him,  had  given  me  some  good  pointers  how  to 
manage  '^a  stand,"  if  I  ever  got  one.  He  told  me  not  to 
shoot  fast  enough  to  heat  the  gun-barrel  to  an  over-ex- 
pansion; to  always  try  to  hit  the  outside  ones;  to  shoot 


STORY   OF  THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  165 

at  any  that  started  to  walk  off,  unless  I  thought  they  were 
mortally  wounded.  He  said  that  "with  an  over-expanded 
gun-barrel  the  bullet  would"  go  wobbling,  and  would  be 
liable  to  break  a  leg;  and  that  would  start  a  bolt." 

After  I  had  killed  twenty-five  that  I  knew  of,  the  smoke 
from  the  gun  commenced  to  hang  low,  and  was  slow  in 
disappearing.  So  I  shifted  my  position  and,  in  doing  so, 
got  still  closer.  And  I  know  that  many  of  the  herd  saw 
me  move.  I  had  shot  perhaps  half  a  dozen  times,  when, 
as  I  was  reloading,  I  heard  a  keen  whistle  behind  me. 
Looking  around  I  saw  Charlie  Cook.  He  was  on  his  all- 
fours,  creeping  up  to  me.  He  said:  ''Go  ahead;  take  it 
easy;  I  am  coming  with  more  cartridges."  He  crawled 
right  up  to  my  side  with  my  gun  and  an  extra  sack  of 
ammunition  for  me,  and  a  canteen  of  water.  He  asked  if 
the  gun  was  shooting  all  right.  I  told  him  ''Yes;  but  the 
barrel  is  pretty  warm."  He  told  me  to  try  my  own  gun 
a  while  and  let  his  gun  cool  a  little.  We  exchanged  guns, 
and  I  commenced  again. 

Even  while  I  was  shooting  buffaloes  that  had  not  been 
shot  at  all,  some  would  lie  down  apparently  unconcerned 
about  the  destruction  going  on  around  them.  I  fired 
slowly  and  deliberately.  Charlie  poured  some  water 
from  the  canteen  down  the  muzzle  of  his  gun ;  then  pulled 
down  the  breech-block  and  let  the  water  run  out.  He 
then  ran  a  greased  rag  in  the  eyelet  of  the  wiping-stick 
and  swabbed  the  barrel  out,  leaving  the  breech-block 
open  for  a  while,  thus  cooling  the  barrel,  in  order  to  have 
that  gun  ready  for  use  when  my  own  gun  got  too  warm. 

About  this  time  I  shot  an  old  cow  that  at  the  crack  of 
the  gun  bolted  down  the  creek.  I  shot  at  her  three  times 
in  rapid  succession.  The  third  shot  broke  her  back  just 
forward  of  the  coupling. 


166         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

I  laid  the  gun  down  and  said,  'Charlie,  finish  the  job.'' 

He  said  ''No,  take  my  gun  and  go  ahead,  this  is  the 
greatest  sight  I  ever  beheld.'^ 

I  took  his  gun,  and  without  thinking  put  in  a  44  cart- 
ridge and  fired.  Then  he  put  the  cartridge-sack  in  front 
of  me,  saying,  ''You  used  one  of  your  44's  that  time." 
And  as  I  pulled  the  breech-block  down  to  put  in  another 
cartridge,  a  bull,  about  a  six-year-old,  started  walking 
toward  us,  with  his  ferocious-looking  head  raised  high. 
Before  I  could  divine  his  intentions  I  fired,  and  he  fell 
almost  as  suddenly  as  the  cow  whose  back  I  had  broken. 

I  would  shoot  five  or  six  times,  wipe  the  gun,  and  we 
would  comment,  in  a  low  tone,  on  the  apparent  stupidity 
of  the  herd.  Some  came  back  and  stood  by  the  dead  ones. 
Some  would  hook  them  as  they  lay  dead.  I  kept  this  work 
up  for  as  much  as  an  hoiu*  and  a  quarter,  when  I  changed 
guns  again.  And  at  the  first  shot  from  my  own  gun  I 
broke  the  left  hind  leg  above  the  knee  of  a  big  bull  that  was 
standing  on  the  outer  edge  of  the  herd,  about  ninety  yards 
from  me.  He  commenced  "cavorting"  around,  jamming 
up  against  others,  and  the  leg  flopping  as  he  hopped  about. 

He  finally  broke  in  through  the  midst  of  the  band  and 
my  stand.  They  all  began  to  follow  him,  and  I  with  the 
big  50  that  I  now  took  from  Charlie,  commenced  a  rear 
attack,  Charlie  putting  cartridges  in  his  belt  which  I  was 
wearing;  and  with  the  belt  about  half  full  and  several 
in  one  pocket,  and  a  half-dozen  or  so  in  my  left  hand,  I 
moved  up  to  a  dead  buffalo,  and  got  in  several  good  shots ; 
when  I  moved  again,  on  through  the  dead  ones,  to  the 
farthermost  one,  and  fired  three  more  shots  and  quit.  As 
I  walked  back  through  where  the  carcasses  lay  the  thickest, 
I  could  not  help  but  think  that  I  had  done  wrong  to  make 
such  a  slaughter  for  the  hides  alone. 


STORY   OF  THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  167 

In  counting  them  just  as  they  lay  there,  their  eyes 
glassy  in  death,  I  had  killed  eighty-eight;  and  several  left 
the  ground  with  more  bad  than  slight  wounds. 

Jimmie  Dunlap  and  Pedro  Laredo  had  driven  up  to 
within  less  than  a  quarter  of  a  mile,  and  had  witnessed 
more  than  half  the  slaughter. 

I  helped  all  hands  at  skinning  until  an  hour  from  sun- 
down; and,  being  nearly  exhausted,  lay  down  on  the 
buffalo-grass,  with  a  fresh-skinned  hide  rolled  up  for  a 
pillow,  and  stretched  myself  out  for  a  rest. 

My  nerves  had  been  at  a  high  tension;  the  heat  of  the 
day  had  been  oppressive;  then  stooping  over  so  much 
while  taking  off  the  hides  I  got  dizzy;  all  of  which  con- 
tributed to  ray  utter  fatigue.  The  other  three  men  worked 
on  until  it  got  too  dark  to  see  well ;  then  we  all  went  to 
camp,  having  skinned,  all  told,  fifty-nine  of  the  eighty- 
eight  carcasses.  I  had  killed  bulls  principally,  on  account 
of  their  hides  being  more  valuable  than  the  others.  Some- 
times I  had  to  kill  cows  that  were  on  the  outside,  and  at 
times  they  would  obstruct  a  shot  at  a  bull. 

The  next  morning  early,  Charlie,  Jimmie  and  the  Mexi- 
can drove  out  and  finished  the  skinning,  while  I  reloaded 
shells.  Before  noon  everybody  was  in  camp  and  the  88 
hides  pegged  out  and  drying. 

We  hunted  from  this  camp  with  varying  success  imtil 
the  middle  of  July,  when  we  moved  south  on  the  Cana- 
dian and  camped  on  Red  Deer,  near  where  the  Wood 
families  and  I  camped  the  winter  before  with  the  soldiers 
and  Kiowas.  About  a  week  before  we  made  this  move 
we  went  back  and  poisoned  the  hides  at  the  first  camp. 
Also,  those  at  the  second  camp  on  Wolf  creek.  The  day 
before  we  left  it,  Charlie  and  I  had  ridden  south  from  Wolf 
creek  to  the  edge  of  the  Canadian  breaks  and  saw  a  few 


168         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

scattering  bands.  But  we  thought  there  would  be  plenty 
of  buffaloes  in  that  region  later  on. 

The  day  we  moved,  the  Mexican  wanted  some  ante- 
lope-hides to  make  himself  a  suit  of  clothes,  and  started 
ahead  with  my  gun  and  belt,  he  taking  the  course  that 
we  told  him  we  would  take  to  cross  the  table-land,  between 
the  two  streams.  If  my  recollection  serves  me  right, 
from  where  we  were  and  the  direction  we  would  travel 
it  was  about  ten  or  twelve  miles.  When  Pedro  handed 
me  his  "pistolie"  I  said,  ''Now,  don't  get  lost;  keep  in 
sight  of  the  wagons."  He  said  he  would.  The  antelopes 
were  plentiful,  indeed,  along  the  route  we  were  going ; 
and  off  he  went. 

A  few  days  before  we  moved,  I  had  gone  up  Wolf  creek 
about  six  miles  from  camp,  this  being  very  near  the  head 
of  it,  and  while  there  I  came  across  an  abandoned  Arapaho 
camp.  The  Indians  had  left  it  so  suddenly  the  summer 
before — that  being  the  summer  of  the  Indian  War  of  1874, 
when  they  received  such  a  severe  punishment  from  the 
hunters  near  the  Adobe  Walls, — that  they  did  not  take 
time  to  move  all  their  effects,  and  the  camp  for  half  a  mile 
up  and  down  the  creek  was  strewn  with  tin  cups,  plates, 
stew-pans,  camp-kettles  or  brass  kettles,  and  several  Dutch 
ovens,  besides  axes  and  hoes.  I  picked  up  one  of  these 
brass  kettles  and  took  it  to  camp. 

We  had  been  cooking  our  dried  apples  in  a  black  sheet- 
iron  kettle,  and  the  apple-sauce  had  a  dark,  grimy  look. 
I  had  a  vivid  recollection  of  a  beautiful  well-polished 
brass  kettle  that  my  mother  used  to  cook  fruit  in,  and  in 
which  she  made  fine  preserves ;  but  my  observation  went 
no  farther.  Now  I  thought  we  will  cook  our  dried  apples 
in  this  and  our  sauce  will  retain  its  natural  dried-fruit 
color. 


STORY  OF  THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  169 

It  SO  happened  that  the  evening  before  we  moved  we 
cooked  a  kettle  of  dried  apples  and  set  them  to  one  side 
with  a  lid  over  them.  They  were  not  thought  of  at  the 
morning  meal,  nor  imtil  we  were  packing  up  to  move 
camp.  On  this  particular  day  I  hauled  the  entire  mess- 
kit.  There  was  a  five-gallon  keg  of  water  in  each  wagon, 
and  when  all  was  ready  we  pulled  out  of  camp,  Charlie 
and  Jimmie  in  the  lead. 

After  traveling  about  four  miles  I  heard  the  report  of 
a  gun  off  to  my  left  and  rear.  Upon  bringing  my  field- 
glasses  to  a  focus  in  the  direction  the  report  came  from  I 
saw  it  was  the  Mexican.  I  said,  "Charlie,  you  and  Jimmie 
might  go  ahead  to  camp  and  maybe  you'll  get  a  chance 
to  kill  a  few  buffaloes.  I'll  mosey  along  slowly,  and  keep 
an  eye  on  the  Greaser;  for  he  might  get  lost." 

The  two  started  on,  and  I  watched  the  Mexican  and  saw 
that  he  was  skinning  an  antelope.  After  he  got  through 
he  threw  the  hide  over  his  shoulder  and  started  on  south. 
When  he  passed  a  line  east  and  west  of  me,  I  drove  on, 
turning  a  little  left  from  the  route  Charlie  had  taken. 
This  I  did  in  order  to  get  closer  to  the  Mexican;  also  to 
gain  a  high  point  of  land  ahead  of  me.  I  saw  him  skinning 
another  antelope.  All  this  was  taking  time;  and  as  it 
was  late  when  we  left  camp,  it  was  now  near  noon,  and  I 
was  hungry.  I  went  to  the  hind  end  of  the  wagon,  opened 
the  messbox,  got  some  bread,  took  a  spoon  and  dived  into 
the  apple-sauce.  Eating  out  of  the  brass  kettle  from  one 
side,  I  ate  several  large  spoonfuls  of  it  with  my  bread, 
then  poured  a  quart  cup  full  of  water  out  of  the  keg,  drank 
about  half  of  it;  then  dived  into  the  apple-sauce  again, 
and  ate  until  my  appetite  was  perfectly  satisfied. 

I  then  got  up  on  the  spring  seat  and  looked  for  the 
Mexican,  but  could  not  see  him.    Thinking  now  that  he 


170         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

was  acting  in  a  sensible-like  way,  and  that  he  had  gone 
on  south,  I  started  ahead,  and  had  not  gone  far  until  a 
strange  sickening  feeling  came  over  me.  The  sun  was 
boiling  down  and  the  heat  radiating  in  front  of  me.  I 
was  getting  dizzy-headed  and  '^ squeamish"  in  my  stomach. 
I  could  hardly  retain  a  sitting  position,  but  before  it  was 
too  late  I  stopped  the  team,  climbed  down  and  crawled 
under  the  wagon.  Sick?  Yes,  unto  death,  as  I  then 
thought. 

Whether  I  had  gone  to  sleep  or  was  unconscious  I  am 
unable  to  say.  It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  before  I  came 
to  a  realization  of  anything.  The  first  I  knew  was :  The 
Mexican  was  bathing  my  face  with  a  wet  towel.  He  spoke 
fairly  good  English  and  said  to  me,  ''you  are  sick." 

My  sight  coming  to  me,  I  asked  him  to  get  me  some 
strong  salt  water,  which  I  drank.  It  was  an  excellent 
emetic,  for  I  was  soon  relieved  of  all  that  poisoned  apple- 
sauce ajid  sour-dough  bread  that  I  had  eaten.  Presently 
I  could  sit  up,  and  the  dizziness  had  passed;  but  I  was, 
oh,  so  weak!  Pedro  told  me  he  had  come. to  me  nearly 
an  hour  before.  He  had  loosened  the  horses  from  the 
wagon  and  taken  the  wagon-sheet  and  hung  it  over  the 
side  of  the  wagon  the  sun  was  shining  against,  and  had 
been  washing  my  face,  neck,  and  arms  for  some  time. 
He  said:  ''Now  let  me  help  you  into  the  wagon  and  I 
will  hitch  up  and  we  will  go  to  camp."  He  helped  me  to 
get  a  reclining  position,  and  started.  After  he  had  started, 
he  asked  me  if  I  knew  which  side  of  us  the  other  wagon- 
track  was  on.  I  told  him,  "To  the  right."  When  he 
found  it  he  stopped  and  asked  me  how  I  was  feeUng.  I 
repUed,  "Very  sick.  Don't  you  eat  any  of  that  apple- 
sauce. It  has  poisoned  me."  The  fact  was,  I  had  been 
verdigris-poisoned  from  the  brass  kettle;   and  for  several 


STORY   OF   THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  171 

days  I  was  an  invalid  without  any  appetite.  And  fifteen 
years  elapsed  before  I  could  eat  apple-sauce  again. 

It  was  now  the  breeding  season  of  the  buffaloes,  which 
was  July  and  August.  And  there  was  a  constant  mut- 
tering noise,  night  and  day,  made  by  the  bellowing,  or, 
more  properly  speaking,  the  roo  roo-oo  of  the  bulls, 
which  in  the  individual  case  could  not  be  heard  in  ordinary 
atmospherical  conditions  above  a  half-mile,  but  when 
uttered  by  the  thousands  has  been  known  to  be  heard 
for  twenty  miles. 

The  mosquitoes  punished  our  horses  so  severely  at  nights, 
and  the  green-head  flies  by  day,  that  we  decided  to  move 
southeast,  to  the  top  of  the  Washita  divide.  Charlie's 
left  eye  was  gradually  covering  with  a  film,  and  he  wanted 
to  go  home  and  have  it  operated  on ;  so  after  we  had  moved 
to  the  divide,  we  established  our  camp  on  the  prairie  200 
yards  from  the  water  of  a  big  spring  that  Buck  Wood 
and  I  found  the  winter  before  when  living  in  the  cabin  we 
had  built.  We  left  Jimmie  and  the  Mexican  here  to  do 
what  they  could  with  Charlie's  and  my  gun.  Taking  the 
"pistolie"  and  Long  Tom  we  went  to  the  White  Deer 
camp,  and,  loading  all  the  hides  on  the  two  wagons,  took 
them  to  Springer's  ranch  and  sold  them.  We  offered 
Springer  our  Wolf  creek  hunt,  but  he  told  us  he  did  not 
have  the  money  to  pay  for  them;  but,  said  he,  "George 
Aikin's  outfit  will  camp  here  to-night,  going  to  Fort  El- 
liott, with  a  load  of  Government  supplies;  and  maybe 
you  can  get  him  to  haul  them  to  Dodge  City." 

It  was  nearly  night,  and  while  we  were  talking  Aikin 
rode  up.  I  had  met  him  before,  during  the  past  winter, 
at  Sweet  Water,  when  I  hired  to  Hart.  I  told  him  how 
we  were  situated,  and  he  said  that  if  we  gave  him  the  same 
rates  as  from  Elliott  and  twenty  dollars  besides  he  would 


172         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

take  all  of  the  Wolf  creek  hides  to  Dodge  City.  He  wanted 
to  lay  by  and  rest  and  graze  up  his  teams  at  Commission 
creek,  on  his  way  back ;  and  that  he  would  load  the  train 
with  hides  at  Sweet  Water,  less  the  number  of  wagons 
it  required  for  our  hides. 

^So  it  was  settled  that  way.  It  was  arranged  that  Charlie 
would  be  at  Springer's  when  Aiken  came  back  and  pilot 
him  to  the  hides.  Aiken  left  us,  saying  he  would  be  back 
to  Springer's  in  eight  days. 

Charlie  and  I  went  back  to  our  camp  by  way  of  the  cabin ; 
but  it  did  not  look  natural.  Nettles  had  grown  up  by  one 
side  of  it  ten  feet  high.  A  wild  gourd  vine  had  chmbed 
over  the- roof  and  the  wood-rats  had  piled  one  corner  of 
the  inside  high  up  with  chips,  bark,  sticks,  turkey  feathers, 
and  pieces  of  bones  that  we  had  cracked  to  remove. the 
marrow  from.  The  big  cottonwood  grove  was  in  full 
leaf ;  and  as  we  drove  on  in  the  direction  of  camp  we  saw 
many  flocks  of  young  wild  turkeys. 

We  arrived  in  camp  about  the  middle  of  the  afternoon; 
although  we  could  have  covered  the  actual  distance  the 
nearest  way  in  less  than  three  hours.  The  boys  were  out 
of  camp  when  we  got  there,  but  came  in  late  in  the  evening, 
having  killed  and  skinned  thirteen  buffaloes,  while  we  were 
gone. 

When  Charlie  and  Jimmie  drove  out  the  next  morning 
to  get  the  hides,  there  was  a  young  calf  standing  by  one 
of  the  carcasses,  its  mother  being  one  of  the  victims  of 
yesterday's  work.  It  still  had  the  reddish  color  that  all 
buffalo  calves  have  in  their  infancy,  not  obtaining  their 
regular  blackish  brown  until  in  the  fall, of  the  year,  when 
they  are  very  f^t,  plump  and  stocky,  and  take  on  a  glossy 
look.  I  have  watched  buffaloes  many  times  during  my 
three  years'  hunt,  not  with  a  covetous  eye  at  the  time,  but 


STORY   OF   THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  173 

to  study  the  characteristics  of  the  animal;  and  I  do  not 
remember  ever  seeing  buffalo  calves  frisky,  gamboling, 
and  "cavorting"  around  in  playful  glee  like  domestic 
calves.  Perhaps  their  doom  had  been  transmitted  to 
them!  Yes,  this  was  the  pathetic  side  of  the  question. 
And  thousands  of  these  little  creatures  literally  starved 
to  death,  their  mothers  being  killed  from  the  time  they 
were  a  day  old  on  up  to  the  time  they  could  rustle  their 
own  n\dng  on  the  range.  Charlie  killed  this  calf  and  salted 
the  hide  to  take  home  for  a  rug.  But,  personally,  I  should 
want  no  such  reminder  of  the  last  buffalo-grounds,  espe- 
cially one  gotten  in  that  way.  Charlie  and  I  settled  up  in 
this  camp,  I  taking  over  the  supplies  of  all  kinds  we  then 
had  on  hand.  He  was  to  go  to  Dodge  with  the  Wolf  creek 
hides,  make  the  sale  of  them,  pay  the  freight  bill,  pay 
Jimmie  my  half  of  his  salary,  and  send  my  share  of  the  hunt 
in  money  to  Fort  Elliott,  together  with  half  that  was  due 
the  Mexican  for  what  hides  he  had  skinned. 

The  day  before  Aiken  was  to  be  at  Springer's,  we  broke 
camp,  and  all  pulled  for  that  place.  When  Aiken  came 
along  he  informed  me  that  there  was  fine  hunting  on  the 
Washita,  at  the  mouth  of  Gageby  creek.  Bidding  Charlie 
Cook  and  young  Dunlap  good-by,  the  Mexican  and  I 
pulled  for  the  mouth  of  Gageby  by  way  of  the  Washita 
ranch,  on  the  trail  to  Fort  Elliott. 

Here  I  met  Rankin  Moore,  the  owner  of  the  place. 
This  is  the  man  who  saved  my  life  a  little  over  a  year  after. 
Here  I  learned  that  my  friends,  the  Woods,  just  a  few  days 
before,  had  sold  and  quitclaimed  their  interest  near  the 
mouth  of  Gageby  to  the  Andersons  from  the  Picket  Wire 
country^  of  southeast  Colorado,  who  were  preparing  to 
start  a  horse-and-cattle  ranch.  The  Woods  had  gone  200 
miles  southeast  and  off  from  the  then  last  and  only  remain- 


174      THE  Border  and  the  buffalo. 

ing  frontier  of  the  Old  Southwest.  I  was  disappointed 
in  not  again  meeting  these  Samaritans  of  the  prairies. 

Pedro  and  I  pulled  down  the  Washita  on  the  south  side 
of  the  stream,  and  crossed  the  Gageby  near  where  it  flows 
into  the  former  stream.  Here  we  camped  among  some  large 
scattering  cotton  wood  trees. 

We  were  now  near  the  one-hundredth  meridian,  and 
close  to  danger-ground.  We  had  been  in  this  camp  about 
ten  days  and  had  been  going  from  three  to  eight  miles  for 
what  hides  we  got.  Some  days  we  got  five  hides,  and  from 
that  up  to  ten,  which  was  the  most  we  got  any  one  day. 

The  tenth  day,  toward  evening,  as  we  were  pegging 
out  the  six  hides  we  got  that  day,  a  band  of  Cheyenne 
Indians  rode  into  our  camp,  saying  ''How,  John;  heap 
buffalo."  At  the  same  time  holding  out  a,  long  official 
envelope  toward  me.  We  were  both  down  on  our  hands 
and  knees  cutting  holes,  driving  pegs,  and  stretching  the 
hides.  The  suddenness  of  their  arrival  startled  us.  My 
gun  was  about  twenty  feet  from  me.  As  I  rose  up  I  started 
toward  it,  whereupon  the  Indian,  holding  out  the  envelope, 
said,  ''No,  no  shoot;  heap  good,"  and  turning  the  en- 
lope  toward  me,  said  excitedly:  "You  see  'em!  You  see 
'em!" — pointing  to  the  envelope  and  saying,  "Big  white 
man,  heap  chief.''  1  picked  up  the  envelope,  which  was 
imsealed,  and  found  out  that  it  contained  a  pass  from 
the  commanding  officer  at  Fort  Reno,  Indian  Territory, 
"For  the  bearer  and  his  family  to  visit  James  Springer,  on 
the  Canadian  river,  northwest  of  Springer's.  And  they 
must  follow  the  Canadian  river,  both  going  and  coming, 
and  are  not  to  be  absent  from  their  agency  but  twenty 
days." 

They  were  then  ten  miles  south  of  the  Canadian,  on  the 
Washita.    After  reading  the  pass  and  handing  it  back,  I 


STORY   OF   THE    SOUTHWEST    PLAINS.  175 

said,  ''wayno"  (bueno),  a  Spanish  word  for  good,  known 
far  and  near  by  hunters,  trappers,  soldiers,  cowboys,  and 
all  tribes  of  Indians  from  the  Rio  Grande  to  British  Amer- 
ica. But  it  was  more  commonly  expressed  by  the  word 
"skookum,"  by  the  Crows,  Blackfeet,  and  extreme  north- 
em  tribes.  ''Skookum"  is  Chinook  for  ''good."  When 
I  said  ''wayno,"  he  repeated  the  word  after  me;  then, 
pointing  just  a  little  way  upstream,  he  said :  "Me  campa!" 
Away  they  went  with  their  travois  outfit  about  200  yards, 
and  camped.  There  were  twenty-two  of  them,  men,  women, 
and  children.  Three  young  bucks  lingered  at  our  camp, 
and  examined  and  talked  among  themselves  about  every- 
thing that  attracted  their  attention.  My  bundle  of  eagle- 
feathers  was  in  sight  and  caught  their  eyes.  There  wa§  a 
flour-sack  wrapped  around  them;  and  one  of  the  young 
fellows  picked  up  the  bundle  and  brought  it  to  where  I 
was  now  cooking  supper.  He  talked  his  own  language, 
whatever  that  was,  and  made  signs  that  he  wanted  me  to 
take  the  sack  off.  I  did  so,  and  he  examined  them  closely ; 
then  he  bundled  them  up  and  said,  ''You  swap?" 

I  had  learned  a  good  deal  of  the  universal  Indian  sign- 
language  from  the  Osages,  in  southeastern  Kansas,  and 
had  picked  up  a  little  more  from  the  Navajoes  that  were 
camped  a  short  time  near  where  I  was  once  in  New  Mex- 
ico. 

I  now  commenced  to  make  use  of  it ;  and  by  signs  I  told 
him  I  would  trade.  When  I  gave  the  sign  for  "yes,"  he 
stepped  closer  to  me  and  in  pantomime  he  asked,  "How 
much?" 

I  crooked  my  right  thumb  and  forefinger  so  as  to  bring 
them  in  a  circle,  thus  making  the  Indian  sign  for  dollar. 
Then  I  held  up  both  hands,  palms  toward  him,  all  fingers 
and  thumbs  spread  out,  thus  counting  ten;  then  I  quickly 


176         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

shut  both  hands  and  opened  them  again,  then  let  them 
drop  to  my  sides,  indicating  that  $20  was  my  price.  I  think 
he  had  as  good  an  idea  of  what  $20  really  meant  as  he  did 
of  where  the  ''happy  hunting-ground"  was  located. 

They  went  to  their  own  camp,  and  the  next  morning 
the  one  I  talked  with  came  back,  leading  a  pinto  pony.  He 
wanted  the  feathers,  and  goodness  knows  how  much  sugar, 
coffee,  tobacco,  and  powder.  I  measured  out  a.  pint 
of  green  coffee,  and  one  quart  of  sugar;  placed  the  eagle- 
feathers  beside  them,  and  sat  down  upon  my  ammunition- 
box  and  assumed  a  far-off  look. 

I  had  traded  a  good  deal  with  the  Osages ;  so  I  played 
Injun  with  Injun.  I  had  looked  the  pony  well  over,  seeing 
he  was  sound  and  large  enough  for  a  pack-horse,  but  too 
light  for  a  saddle-pony  for  a  man  of  my  weight.  Presently 
the  Indian  called  my  attention  to  a  half-sack  of  flour  which 
we  were  using  from.  It  was  standing  by  a  tree.  I  got  up, 
and,  picking  up  the  bread-pan,  I  turned  it  bottom-side 
up,  placing  it  over  the  flour-sack  and  again  sat  down  on 
the  ammunition-box.  He  stood  there  a  little  while,  then 
went  u'p  to  a  powder-can  and  made  signs  for  powder.  I 
got  up,  picked  up  the  can,  and  set  it  in  the  hind  end  of  the 
wagon,  went  and  sat  down  again  on  the  ammunition-box. 
He  stood  for  a  moment,  then  commenced  laughing.  I 
looked  as  sober  as  a  judge  and  as  wise  as  an  owl.  He 
picked  up 'the  feathers,  examined  them  again,  and  could 
stand  the  nervous  tension  no  longer.  He  motioned  me 
to  get  a  rope.  I  told  him  I  wanted  the  one  on  the  pony. 
He  wanted  some  tobacco.  I  made  a  sign  across  the  fingers 
of  my  left  hand,  showing  how  much  I  would  give  him.  He 
nodded  that  stoical  face  and  head,  and  the  trade  was 
made. 

He  wanted  me  to  go  to  his  camp  with  him,  where  he 


STORY   OF  THE   SOUTHWEST  PLAINS.  177 

showed  me  his  father's  eagle-feather  war-bonnet,  and  gave 
me  to  imderstand  that  now  he  would  have  one  of  his  own. 
I  judged  him  to  be  about  22  or  23  years  of  age.  He  was 
about  5  feet  11  inches  tall,  straight  as  an  arrow,  and  withal 
had  a  rather  pleasant  coimtenance,  of  a  serious  look.  His 
face  was  not  hideously,  but  gaudily,  painted  with  red 
and  yellow  vermilion.  He  wore  a  bear-claw  necklace  and 
the  tail  of  a  chapparal  bird  on  the  top  of  his  head,  just 
back  of  the  scalp-lock.  His  wrists  were  encircled  with 
broad,  thin,  highly  polished  steel  bands.  His  breech- 
clout  was  nicely  beaded  and  porcupine-quilled  on  front 
and  rear  flap.  Among  his  tribe  he  was  evidently  a  per- 
son of  some  distinction ;  but  to  me  he  was  just  an  Indian. 

When  this  band  broke  camp  they  struck  northwest  for 
Springer's.  After  they  got  over  the  divide  the  Mexican 
and  I  hooked  up  and  loaded  all  our  camp  outfit,  and  what 
hides  we  could  pull,  and  struck  out  for  the  head  of  Gageby, 
on  the  military  trail.  Pedro  and  Pinto  with  my  new  saddle 
lent  considerable  dignity  to  my  outfit,  he  riding  ahead,  or 
off  to  one  side,  as  fancy  pleased  him. 

He  called  himself  the  scout.  We  camped  near  the  head 
of  the  creek,  and  the  next  day  went  back  for  the  rest  of 
oiu"  hides.  Here  I  made  headquarters  until  the  first  of 
September,  going  as  far  east  as  we  dared  on  account  of 
the  Indian  Territory  line,  our  camp  being  twelve  miles 
west  of  this  line,  and  about  the  same  distance  from  Fort 
Elliott. 

Some  days  we  went  west,  taking  our  camp  along.  If 
we  got  a  few  hides  by  noon  or  a  little  after,  we  returned  to 
camp ;  if  not,  we  kept  on,  the  Mexican  scouting  for  water, 
which,  when  found,  we  camped  by  overnight. 

Thus  we  put  in  the  time  until  the  first  of  September, 
when  we  pulled  to  Fort  Elliott  and  Sweet  Water.    Here 


178         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

the  Mexican  fell  in  company  with  two  of  his  race,  and  went 
with  them  to  New  Mexico. 

In  October  I  pulled  south  with  two  other  outfits.  We 
followed  down  the  one-hundredth  meridian  line,  keeping 
an  average  of  about  fifteen  miles  west  on  the  Texas  side 
to  Red  river,  thence  to  the  South  fork  of  Pease  river,  where 
Willis  Crawford  and  I  went  into  camp  for  the  winter. 

I  furnished  everything  and  gave  him  a  one-third  interest 
in  the  hunt.  We  had  fair  success,  and,  all  in  all,  as  good 
a  time  as  hunters  could  enjoy.  We  had  fair  hunting  the 
most  of  the  winter;  but  we  did  not  rush  matters  as  Hart 
did. 

Freed's  camp  was  five  miles  up  the  river  from  ours. 
Al.  Waite  and  Frank  Perry  were  three  miles  down  the 
same  stream ;  and  north  of  us  three  miles,  at  some  springs, 
was  Dirty-face  Jones. 

Many  times  during  the  winter  we  visited  each  other's 
camps  and  passed  many  pleasant  evenings  in  the  buffalo- 
hide  tepees  or  dugouts,  as  the  case  might  be,  exchanging 
experiences  of  the  hunt;  commenting  upon  the  events 
occurring  in  the  outside  world  when  we  occasionally  heard 
of  them.  All  this,  interspersed  with  story-telling  and 
song-singing,  until  the  '^wee  sma'  hours." 

The  turkeys  in  this  region  were  just  the  opposite  from 
those  about  oiu-  last  winter's  camp  near  the  Salt  Fork  of 
the  Brazos.  Here  they  were  tender,  juicy  and  sweet; 
but  not  nearly  so  tame.  But  it  would  have  been  a  very 
poor  hunter  indeed  that  in  an  hour  or  two's  absence  from 
camp  could  not  bring  in  two  or  more  of  the  big  fat  prizes. 

This  was  a  beautiful,  mild  winter,  with  the  exception 
of  two  northers,  one  in  November,  the  other  in  February, 
each  lasting  two  or  three  days.  On  Christmas  Day, 
and  for  several  days  before,  the  days  were  quite  warm  and 


STORY   OF   THE   SOUTHWEST    PLAINS.  179 

the  nights  clear,  with  bright  stariight,  and  pleasant.  The 
sun  usually  rose  from  a  perfectly  clear  sky,  and  passed 
down  behind  the  horizon  leaving  a  soft  golden  halo  in 
its  wake.  This  surely  was  the  American  Hunters^  Para- 
dise. And  they  were  winning  the  Great  Southwest.  We 
hunters  often  talked  about  the  future  of  this  great,  vast 
uninhabited  region,  with  all,  its  salt,  gypsum,  alkali  and 
strongly  impregnated  sulphur  waters,  scattered  over  this 
vast  expanse  of  territory  200  miles  in  width  and  350  miles 
long,  in  western  Texas  alone.  There  were  thousands  of 
beautiful  fresh- water  springs  of  cool,  pure  water,  and 
many  babbling  brooks  where  several  varieties  of  fish 
abounded. 

West  of  the  pecan  and  oak  shinnery  (^'cross-timber") 
belt,  even  on  to  the  eastern  escarpment  of  the  Llano 
Estacado,  were  thousands  of  beautiful  cotton  wood  groves, 
many  wild  plum  bushes,  and  much  mesquite. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

Indian  Rumors. — Nigger-Horse  Runs  Away. — A  Close  Midnight 
Call. — A  Comanche  Shoots  at  Me. — Rankin  Moore  KUls  the  In- 
dian's Horse. — Diabolical  Deeds. — Killing  and  Scalping  of  Sewall. 
— We  Dug  His  Grave  with  Butcher-knives. — The  Pocket  Canon 
Fight. — Hosea. — They  Scatter  Like  Quails. — Plains  Telegraphy. 

We  hunters  were  optimistic  enought  to  predict  a  won- 
derful future  for  a  region  of  such  deUghtful  cUmate  and 
such  fertile  soil.  In  March  we  sold  our  hides  to  Charles 
Rath,  who  sent  his  agent,  George  West,  to  follow  up  the 
hunters  with  two  large  freight  trains  to  bring  back  the 
hides  they  got  that  winter.  But  a  dozen  such  trains 
could  not  haul  the  hides  that  the  hunters  had  in  their 
many  camps  west  from  the  one-hundredth  meridian  to 
the  New  Mexico  line  and  south  to  the  Brazos  river.  It 
was  a  red-letter  killing  and  the  slaughter  reached  its  high- 
tide  mark  that  winter  and  spring.  The  summer  of  1876  I 
hunted  with  fair  success  in  different  parts  of  the  Panhandle 
of  Texas.  But  that  year  not  many  buffaloes  went  north 
to  the  Cimarron.  They  were  giving  ground.  The  terri- 
ble slaughter  of  the  past  two  years  had  shortened  their 
annual  pilgrimage  from  the  Cimarron  to  the  Platte,  500 
miles.  In  October  I  was  back  on  the  breaks  of  Red  river. 
Army  officers  informed  us  that  the  Indians  were  restless. 
They  had  heard  of  Sitting  Bull's  annihilation  of  Custer's 
Seventh  Cavalry,  and  it  was  in  their  hearts  to  emulate 
his  and  Gall's  warriors.  George  Whitelaw  with  two  men, 
Hank  Campbell  with  two  men,  and  Crawford  and  I,  agreed 
to  camp  together  for  mutual  protection.  We  found  some 
excellent  water-holes  about  three  miles  north  of  Red  river, 

(180) 


STORY   OF  THE   SOUTHWEST  PLAINS.  181 

in  rough  ground.  Here  we  pitched  camp  and  stayed  until 
the  last  of  November,  getting  all  told  1600  hides  from 
here. 

Campbell's  outfit  and  my  own  went  west  about  six 
miles  and  camped  at  the  head  of  a  draw  running  through 
a  large  flat  down  to  Red  river.  Whitelaw  went  back  to 
Fort  Elliott.  There  were,  in  this  camp,  Hank  Campbell, 
Frank  Lewis,  ''Crazy"  Burns,  Willis  Crawford,  and  my- 
self, the  night  of  the  15th  December,  when  a  heavy  blind- 
ing snow-storm  came  on.  This  snow  commenced  falling 
as  darkness  set  in;  by  daylight  it  had  ceased,  and  there 
were  seven  inches  of  snow  on  the  ground. 

Sometime  that  night,  while  we  were  all  wrapped  in  our 
warm  beds  and  sound  asleep,  Old  Nigger  Horse,  with  170 
Comanche  warriors,  together  with  their  families,  passed 
by  less  than  200  feet  feet  from  us,  running  away  from 
Fort  Sill.  They  were  being  followed  by  two  companies 
of  soldiers  that  would  have  overtaken  them  if  Miles,  Cus- 
ter, or  Crook  had  been  there.     This  is  my  opinion. 

The  next  morning  "Crazy"  Burns,  as  he  was  called; 
was  the  first  one  up,  and  while  he  was  building  the  morn- 
ing fire  the  soldiers  appeared,  and  they  told  us  they  had 
abandoned  the  Indian  trail  on  account  of  the  weather. 
This  act  alone  caused  the  loss  of  many  lives  of  the  hunters. 
These  Indians  kept  on  south  and  went  into  camp  for  the 
rest  of  the  winter.  The  place  they  selected  was  a  pocket- 
canon  just  south  of  the  mouth  of  Thompson's  canon,  and 
is  so  located  on  the  old  maps. 

It  was  an  excellent  place  for  a  defensive  fight,  being 
located  as  it  was  immediately  under  the  escarpment  of 
the  Staked  Plains.  They  stayed  here  until  the  last  of 
February.  Literally  they  were  perfectly  hidden.  But 
few  hunters  were  that  far  south  at  the  time,  and  none  that 


STORY   OF   THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  183 

far  west.  The  fact  developed  afterward  that  the  nearest 
hunter's  camp  was  twelve  miles  from  them.  This  was 
Billy  Devins's,  northeast  of  them.  Five  miles  northeast 
of  Devins's  was  the  ill-fated  Marshall  Sewall's  camp. 

In  the  latter  part  of  February  these ,  Indians  began 
murdering  and  pillaging  in  earnest.  But  a  few  days  be- 
fore the  first  hunters  were  disturbed,  they  had  evidently 
scouted  the  country  well,  for  there  were  single  Indians 
seen  in  different  places  far  apart  at  the  same  time. 

A  few  days  after  Nigger  Horse  and  his  band  had  passed 
by  our  camp,  Rankin  Moore  came  along  with  his  outfit 
and  told  us  he  had  not  seen  a  buffalo  since  he  had  left 
Fort  Elliott.  We  had  not  seen  one  for  the  last  two  days. 
So  we  agreed  to  pull  south  for  the  Brazos  country.  We 
crossed  the  Red  river  at  the  same  place  the  Indians  did, 
and  followed  their  trail  for  ten  miles,  when  it  turned  off 
more  to  the  southwest;  but  we  went  on  south.  Moore 
had  agreed  to  go  to  a  certain  place  on  the  Salt  Fork  and 
camp  there  until  Benson's  outfit  came  along,  Benson 
and  he  both  having  been  at  the  place  the  winter  before. 
This  place  was  about  ten  miles  up  the  river  from 
where  Arkansaw  Jack's  camp  was  the  winter  of  my  first 
hunt. 

The  evening  we  arrived  at  this  place  I  took  my  horses 
down  a  broad  ravine  and  hobbled  them,  nearly  a  quarter 
of  a  mile  from  camp,  where  there  was  better  grass  than 
at  or  near  camp. 

Just  as  I  started  with  the  horses  Rankin  Moore  picked 
up  his  gim  and  said  he  would  go  up  on  the  hill  east  of  our 
camp.     This  draw  that  I  went  down  ran  eastward. 

As  I  was  going  down  the  draw  he  was  going  up  the  hill 
on  the  south  side  of  the  draw.  *Just  as  I  had  hobbled  the 
last  horse,  had  picked  up  my  gun  and  had  taken  perhaps 


184         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

five  or  six  steps,  when  zip!  went  a  bullet,  and  then  the  re- 
port of  a  gun  which  came  from  the  hills  south  of  me. 

I  had  a  cartridge  in  my  gun.  Raising  it,  and  looking 
toward  where  the  shot  came  from,  spat!  and  the  ground 
was  struck  by  a  bullet  in  front  and  to  the  left  of  me,  the 
bullet  passing  between  myself  and  the  pinto  pony. 

Just  at  that  moment  boom!  came  the  report  of  a  bigger 
gun  from  the  hills  and  also  a  considerable  distance  to  the 
west  of  the  shots  coming  toward  me.  Then  came  the  strong 
audible  voice  of  Moore,  ''Look  out.  Cook!  There  is  an 
Inj  un  trying  to  get  you ! " 

When  I  first  saw  Moore  he  was  running  east  toward  the 
place  the  Indian  was  shooting  at  me  from.  I  hurried  out  of 
the  draw,  running  south  to  get  under  cover  of  the  hills  as  soon 
as  possible,  thinking  I  was  too  much  exposed  in  the  draw. 

As  I  ascended  the  hill,  I  peered  cautiously  as  I  went.  I 
heard  the  report  of  Moore's  gun  again,  this  time  not  more 
than  200  yards  from  me,  and  nearly  south,  the  direction 
I  was  going.  I  then  hurried  on  up  the  hill  and  ran  out  to 
where  Moore  was  then  standing. 

Looking  intently  southeast  just  a  few  rods  from  us  we 
saw  a  succession  of  little  knolls  and  hills  with  little  basins 
in  between  them.  The  first  thing  Moore  asked  me  was, 
"Are  you  hit?" 

I  answered,  ''Not  a  hit." 

He  said  "Goody  for  you!  I  believe  I  got  him.  You 
keep  to  the  left  and  I'll  go  around  to  the  right." 

We  had  not  more  than  fairly  started  when  Moore,  who 
was  great  for  off-hand  shots,  fired.  I  ran  up  close  to  him, 
and,  looking  off  southwest  nearly  400  yards,  saw  our 
Indian  afoot.  We  both  fired  rapidly  at  him,  he  running 
like  a  quarter-horse  for  some  breaks  that  he  was  then  close 
to;   but  he  got  away. 


STORY   OF   THE    SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  185 

Our  rapid  firing  of  six  shots  for  Moore  and  five  for  me 
had  brought  every  man  and  gun  from  camp,  all  believing 
it  was  an  "Indian  fight."  After  Moore  had  explained 
matters  to  the  boys  we  all  started  for  the  little  knolls,  and 
soon  found  the  Indian's  horse  breathing  its  laist.  We  left 
everything  just  as  we  found  them,  viz.:  saddle,  bridle, 
lariat,  and  blanket.  Moore  had  shot  the  horse  in  the  left 
jugular  vein,  also  grazed  him  along  the  spinal  column 
with  another  bullet.  We  brought  all  our  horses  to  camp, 
tied  them  to  wagon-wheels,  and  took  turns  at  night  watch. 

We  now  concluded  to  all  stay  together  till  Benson  came, 
which  was  the  third  day  after  this  event.  We  stood  guard 
every  night  and  kept  close  watch  during  the  daytime; 
but  did  no  himting  only  for  camp  meat. 

The  next  morning  after  the  affair  with  the  Indian,  at 
breakfast,  we  were  discussing  the  matter,  and  I  remarked : 

"Well,  Moore,  I  guess  if  you  had  not  been  where  you  were 
I  would  now  be  in  the  other  hunting-ground." 

He  replied:  "No;  not  unless  he  could  shoot  better,  by 
practicing  on  you  a  while." 

He  said  that  when  the  Indian  first  fired  at  me  he  himself 
had  not  seen  him  until  then,  and  he  was  almost  sure  the 
Indian  had  not  seen  him  until  he  fired  at  him;  and  then 
his  pony  jumped,  and  as  he  turned  to  run  he  went  in  a  stag- 
gering gait.  Moore  was  300  yards  from  him  when  he  fired, 
which  he  did  in  a  hurry  before  he  could  get  his  third  shot 
at  me.  The  Indian  was  over  250  yards  from  me  when 
he  fired.  When  Benson  arrived  he  informed  us  that  Char- 
lie Rath  himself  was  on  his  way  down  from  Dodge  City 
with  a  small  train  of  supplies — lumber,  nails,  tools,  and 
some  extra  men,  to  build  a  supply  store  somewhere  east  of 
Double  Mountain,  near  the  Double  Mountain  Fork  of  the 
Brazos;    and  that  John  Russell's  train  of  fifty  wagons, 


186         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

drawn  by  six  yoke  of  oxen  to  the  wagon,  was  following 
Rath,  loaded  with  all  kinds  of  hunters'  supplies.  So  we 
all  decided  to  pull  toward  that  point.  When  we  got  to  the 
McKinzie  trail,  looking  south  around  the  base  of  Double 
Mountain,  we  could  see  that  we  were  close  to  the  "main 
herd"  of  buffaloes,  as  the  parlance  went  those  days. 

We  had  now  been  encamped  and  moving,  and  were 
hardly  making  expenses;  and  this  change  decided  us  to 
take  chances.  We  held  a  council,  at  the  close  of  which  we 
agreed  to  waive  the  former  custom  of  conceding  to  each 
camp  a  radius  of  a  few  miles,  where  they  could  hunt  un- 
molested by  one  another,  and  to  camp  as  close  together  as 
we  could. 

We  turned  west  and  went  up  the  trail  to  Stinking  creek, 
thence  south  in  a  rough  broken  coimtry,  and  found  camps 
from  a  half-mile  to  a  mile  and  a  half  apart,  where  we  all 
had  good  water.  We  were  now  a  little  south  of  west  of 
Double  Mountain ;  the  buffaloes  were  plentiful,  and  seemed 
to  be  located  and  contented. 

When  we  first  reached  this  location  Crawford  and  I  were 
camped  at  some  water-holes  fed  by  two  springs.  From 
our  camp  the  country  sloped  south  to  the  Double  Moun- 
tain Fork  of  the  Brazos,  which  was  some  five  or  six  miles 
distant,  our  camp  being  west  of  the  other  outfits. 

The  evening  of  the  day  we  came  to  this  camp  I  killed 
seventeen  buffaloes  about  one  mile  north  of  camp,  on  the 
eastern  slope  of  a  divide.  I  rode  "  Keno"  on  this  occasion, 
whereas  heretofore  I  had  hunted  afoot  nearly  all  the  time. 

As  I  was  coming  back  from  the  killing  to  where  I  had 
left  ^'Keno,"  I  noticed  him  looking  intently  to  the  west, 
arid  on  looking  in  that  direction  I  saw  a  horseman  approach- 
ing. Upon  coming  closer  it  proved  to  be  Pat  Garrett, 
afterward  better  known  as  the  slayer  of  ''Billy  the  Kid" 


STORY   OF   THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  187 

in  New  Mexico,  while  he,  Garrett,  was  sheriff  of  Lincoln 
county,  New  Mexico. 

He  accepted  our  invitation,  rode  to  camp,  and  stayed  all 
night  with  us.    He  was  camped  about  eight  miles  north- 
west, near  the  Salt  Fork.    He  seemed  to  think  we  were  all 
doing  wrong  in  taking  the  chances  we  were  with  the  In-  ^ 
dians.    But  we  hunted  away. 

The  next  morning  as  we  were  driving  out  to  skin  the 
killing  of  the  previous  evening  we  heard  steady,  deliberate 
shooting  close  to  where  our  carcasses  lay;  and  on  driving 
a  little  farther  we  came  in  sight  of  the  hunter.  We  stopped 
and  waited  until  he  had  quit  shooting  where  he  was.  The 
buffaloes  were  moving  off  toward  the  west.  He  started 
to  follow  them,  but  at  sight  of  us  stopped  and  waited  for 
us  to  come  up. 

He  asked  us  if  those  were  ours  down  there.  I  said, 
"Yes." 

He  said,  ''I  did  not  know  there  was  a  soul  within  ten 
miles  of  here  until  last  evening  when  I  heard  the  shooting. '* 

"Where  is  your  camp?"  I  asked. 

"Down  by  those  trees,"  pointing  to  some  cottonwoods 
about  half  a  mile  west. 

"How  long  have  you  been  there?" 

"Three  weeks." 
•  "Any  Indian  signs?" 

"Haven't  seen  any  Indians;  but  heard  there  were  some 
in  the  country." 

I  remarked,  "You  seem  to  be  a  new  outfit  to  me." 

"Yes;  this  is  Bill  Kress  and  Sol.  Rees's  outfit;  I  am 
Kress." 

We  told  him  where  we  were  camped,  and  explained  to 
him  about  the  council  the  five  outfits  had  had ;  who  they 
were,  as  nearly  as  we  could,  and  where  they  were  encamped. 


188         THE  BOEDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO.  , 

His  next  remark  was  a  prophecy.  '^I'U  tell  you  what, 
boys ;  we  will  fool  around  on  this  range  a  little  too  long ; 
then  what  is  left  of  us  will  have  to  get  together  and  lick 
those  Comanches.  Reese  and  I  are  both  of  the  oldest  of 
hunters.  We  are  from  the  Solomon  river,  in  Kansas,  and 
have  been  on  the  Kansas  and  Colorado  border  for  many 
years.  We  have  not  -hunted  for  two  years  until  this 
winter.  We  went  to  Philadelphia  last  summer;  attended 
the  Centennial  and  blowed  ourselves  in;  and  we  are  *  out 
now  for  a  stake.  But  in  my  opinion  those  Comanches 
will  yet  break  out  and  give  us  trouble  if  we  are  here. 
April  is  generally  the  time  up  in  Kansas  to  look  out  for 
Indians." 

Garrett  went  on  to  his  camp;  Kress  to  his,  and  we  to 
our  work.  For  several  days  there  was  the  sound  of  big 
guns  to  be  heard  in  all  directions.  Finally,  on  the  20th 
of  February,  there  came  to  our  camp  a  runner,  telling  us 
that  'trouble  had  commenced."  Billy  Devins's  camp  had 
been  destroyed  by  the  Indians;  his  horses  taken,  and  he 
and  his  men  barely  escaped  with  their  lives.  Two  Eng- 
lishmen had  both  their  wagons  run  up  between  two  high 
stacks  of  hides  and  wood  and  brush  thrown  upon  them; 
the  torch  was  applied  and  several  large  cakes  of  tallow 
thrown  on  the  fire  to  increase  the  heat.  Their  ammunition 
was  all  taken;  their  harness  had  all  the  best  leather  cut 
out  of  them  and  carried  away,  while  they  were  out  on  foot 
hunting  for  buffaloes ;  that  the  hunters  were  concentrating 
at  Rath's  store.  He  had  just  come  from  Campbell's 
camp,  and  Campbell  had  told  him  where  to  find  us ;  that 
Campbell  himself  had  started  for  a  camp  south  that  he  was 
sure  he  could  find ;  while  his  boys  were  loading  up  to  pull 
out  for  the  McKinzie  trail,  and  on  to  Rath's. 

This   runner   was   Louis   Keyes.    He   was   one-eighth- 


STORY   OF  THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  189 

breed  Cherokee.  He  said,  "Do  you  know  of  any  camp 
west  of  you?" 

I  replied,  ''Yes;  and  if  you  will  help  Crawford  to  load 
the  camp  outfit  and  you  two  will  strike  for  the  trail,  I'll 
go  and  notify  them.  Don't  take  any  hides ;  just  the  camp 
outfit.  Your  horse  seems  to  be  a  work-horse;  hitch  him 
up  by  the  side  gf  the  gray  mare  and  I'll  ride  'Keno.'" 

Thus  it  was  all  arranged,  and  I  was  off  in  less  time  than 
it  takes  to  write  it.  I  went  to  Kress  and  Reese  and  told 
them  what  was  going  on ;  and  while  Kress  and  their  helper 
were  loading  their  camp  outfit,  Reese  and  I  were  galloping 
over  the  prairie  and  .breaks  hunting  for  Pat  Garrett's 
camp,  which  we  foimd,  with  a  card  tacked  up  saying, 
"Gone  to  Rath's  store." 

We  rode  back  east  and  a  little  north  to  the  McKinzie 
trail;  followed  it  down  to  the  Stinking  creek,  where  were 
my  own  and  eight  other  outfits.  We  were  now  twenty- 
three  men  in  number.  We  counted  out  in  "reUefs,"  and 
put  out  a  guard  at  once  of  an  entire  relief ;  while  when  Reese 
and  I  arrived  they  only  had  out  one  lookout  or  one  guard. 
Every  one  had  eaten  his  supper  when  Reese  and  I  got 
there.  We  had  had  a  hard  ride  for  the  time  and  distance. 
Our  horses  were  warm  and  hungry.  We  let  them  graze 
until  dark,  when  we  all  hooked  up  or  saddled  up  and  struck 
down  the  trail.  Every  water-keg  was  full.  We  went 
about  four  miles  and  turned  to  the  left,  traveling  a  mile 
further.  We  corralled,  tying  up  every  animal  known  to 
be  a  wanderer,  and  close-hobbled  the  rest,  except  four  good 
saddle-horses  which  were  kept  saddled.  We  used  every 
precaution  that  was  thought  to  be  necessary  during  In- 
dian troubles.  We  built  no  fire;  for  sixty  war-painted 
bucks  had  been  seen  by  Carr  and  Causey  the  morning  of 
this  same  day,  between  the  McKinzie  trail  and  the  Double 


190         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

Mountains.  We  were  vigilant  during  the  night.  About 
an  hour  before  daylight  everybody  was  at  his  post  of  duty, 
so  as  to  be  ready  in  case  of  an  attack,  or  an  attempt  to  get 
the  stock.    But  we  were  not  molested. 

After  cooking  and  eating  our  breakfast,  we  hitched  up 
and  pulled  on  to  the  trail  and  followed  down  it  several 
miles,  where  we  came  to  a  stake  driven  into  the  ground 
and  several  buffalo  skulls  piled  around  it.  On  this  stake 
was  a  finger-board.    Written  on  it  was  "Rath's  Store.'' 

RusselPs  big  train  had  passed  over  this  route,  and  had 
made  a  well-beaten  trail  to  Rath's.  Traveling  over  this 
trail,  we  soon  entered  a  mesquite  flat,  almost  a  veritable 
thicket  in  places ;  and  for  twelve  miles  we  traveled  through 
this  chapparal,  mesquite,  and  live-oak  mistletoed,  dry- 
land region,  to  the  Double  Mountain  Fork,  before  we 
could  get  water  for  our  animals.  We  arrived  at  Rath's 
in  the  evening,  and  found  nearly  three  hundred  men,  all 
on  the  qui  vive.  Water  for  cooking  purposes  was  hauled 
a  mile,  in  barrels;  and  the  stock  was  all  driven  in  a  com- 
mon herd  to  and  from  the  creek,  twice  a  day. 

I  met  here  several  old  acquaintances  of  the  two  win- 
ters and  the  spring  before.  Several  were  there  that  I 
had  met  in  the  Panhandle  hunt.  There  was  talk  of  or- 
ganization. Remarks  were  made  to  the  effect  that  we 
would  give  the  buffaloes  a  rest  and  the  Indians  a  chase. 
Rath's  agent.  West,  knew  every  one  of  the  northern  hunt- 
ers, all  those  from  Kansas  and  Colorado  down  to  the 
Red  river  country ;  but  this  last  winter  many  new  out- 
fits were  on  the  range  from  the  settlements  of  Texas  east 
of  us,  that  had  not  yet  been  identified  with  the  little  army 
of  northern  hunters.  West  had  a  list  of  names  of  all  that 
could  be  accounted  for  or  their  camps  located. 


STORY  OF  THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  191 

Upon  our  arrival  we  were  eagerly  questioned,  which 
questions  ran  something  like  the  following: 

"Do  you  boys  know  where  Hi.  Bickerdyke  and  the 
Deacon  are?'' 

''Does  anybody  here  know  where  Sewall's  camp  is?'' 

"Where  are  Al.  Waite  and  Frank  Perry?" 

"Has  anyone  see  Smoky  Hill  Thompson?" 

Billy  Devins  said  he  knew  about  where  Marshall  Sewall 
was,  and  considered  that  he  and  the  two  men  besides 
himself  were  on  very  dangerous  ground,  and  ought  to  be 
looked  after  first ;  as  'all  the  others  were  believed  to  be 
back  in  the  Pease  river  country.  It  was  conceded,  and 
so  decided,  that  Devins  was  right. 

And  yet  that  night  we  organized  a  party  of  eighteen 
men  to  go  to  Sewall's  camp.  I  was  one  of  the  number 
to  go.  We  started  early.  West  furnished  Billy  Devins, 
who  was  to  be  a  guide,  with  a  saddle-horse.  We  took 
one  pack-mule,  and  we  were  to  follow  Devins. 

He  led  out  in  a  southwesterly  direction,  taking  us  out 
of  the  breaks  of  the  Double  Mountain  Fork ;  then  we  kept 
as  nearly  due  west  as  we  could  on  account  of  the  breaks. 

We  made  a  good  45-mile  ride  with  hardly  a  halt.  When 
we  reached  Billy  Devins's  destroyed  camp,  Billy  ordered 
Joe  Jackson  and  myself  on  guard.  There  were  two  good 
lookouts  close  to  this  camp;  Jackson  was  sent  to  the  one 
southeast,  and  I  to  the  one  west  of  the  camp.  We  were 
about  200  yards  apart. 

The  boys  in  camp  were  busy  cooking,  for  we  were  all 
hungry.  We  had  been  on  guard  but  a  few  minutes  when 
Jackson  called  out :  "  Here  comes  a  man  afoot  on  our  trail." 

He  came  on  into  camp  and  dropped  down  onto  the 
ground — tired,  worn  out,  and  hungry;  saying,  as  he  did 
so,  "Thank  God  for  this  streak  of  luck!" 


192         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

When  the  men  had  eaten,  Joe  Freed  came  out  and  re- 
lieved me,  telhng  me  that  Marshall  Sewall  had  been  killed 
two  days  before,  about  ten  o'clock  in  the  forenoon;  that 
the  man  who  had  come  to  our  camp  was  Wild  Skillet; 
that  he  had  struck  our  trail  a  mile  or  so  back  and  knew 
we  were  white  men,  and  he  had  followed  our  trail  to  camp. 
He  was  one  of  Sewall's  men. 

This  news  was  important.  I  forgot  my  present  hunger, 
and  listened  to  Freed'  relate  the  circumstances  connected 
with  Sewall's  death: 

''Sewall  had  left  his  camp,  the  day  he  was  killed,  and 
had  found  a  large  herd  of  buffaloes  some  two  miles  west, 
and  had  killed  several  of  them.  Wild  Skillet  and  Moccasin 
Jim  had  started  to  drive  out  to  skin  them,  when  they  saw 
the  Indians  circling  around  Sewall  and  firing  as  they  ran 
around  him.  All  at  once  they  ran  in  to  where  he  was, 
some  of  them  dismounting.  That  was  all  they  could 
tell  about  Sewall.  They  turned  the  team  around,  and 
just  as  they  started  back  toward  the  camp  the  Indians 
discovered  them  and  started  for  them.  They  thought 
there  were  about  fifty  of  the  Indians.  They  saw  they 
were  being  pushed  so  rapidly  that  they  would  be  soon 
overtaken ;  then  they  headed  the  team  for  a  brushy  ravine 
or  a  little  canon,  in  a  rough,  broken  piece  of  ground  that 
came  down  from  a  plain  and  passed  north  of  camp.  The 
boys  drove  as  fast  as  they  possibly  could,  running  the 
team  over  a  steep  bank  to  the  edge  of  the  brush.  Here 
they  abandoned  the  wagon  and  took  to  the  brush,  going 
down  the  little  canon;  the  Indians  coming  on  and  divid- 
ing, part  taking  each  side,  riding  down  to  the  edge  of  the 
breaks  and  yelling  that  never-to-be-forgotten  Comanche 
war-whoop. 

''But  they  did  not  get  the  men,  and  soon  went  away. 


STORY   OF  THE    SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  193 


COMANCHE  MEDICINE  MAN. 


194         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

The  boys  stayed  in  this  brush  canon  until  dark,  having 
followed  it  down  a  mile  or  so  from  where  they  first  entered 
it.  They  had  heard  several  shots  in  quick  succession, 
several  miles  north  of  them,  along  toward  evening,  and 
presumed  it  was  the  same  Indians  attacking  some  other 
outfit." 

At  this  point  in  the  narrative,  Devins  called  for  me  to 
"hurry  to  camp  arid  eat.'' 

After  eating,  we  all  saddled,  packed  up,  and  started 
for  Sewall's  camp,  which  Wild  Skillet  guided  us  to  almost 
on  a  bee  line.  We  reached  our  destination  near  midnight, 
and  found  the  camp  destroyed ;  ourselves  tired  and  sleepy, 
and  our  horses  needing  rest  and  feed.  We  unsaddled  and 
turned  our  horses  loose,  reasoning  that  we  were  perfectly 
safe  for  the  night. 

We  were  up  at  the  first  streak  of  dawn.  The  horses 
guard  brought  in  the  horses.  We  ate  our  breakfast,  and 
then  rode  out  to  where  Sewall's  body  lay.  We  found  it 
in  such  a  condition  that  it  could  not  be  moved. 

We  all  set  to  work  with  butcher-knives,  cut  and  dug, 
and  with  our  hands  scalloped  out  a  hole  about  two  and  one- 
half  feet  deep.  We  rolled  the  body  into  this  grave,  and 
after  placing  the  dirt  back  we  rode  to  some  mesquite 
not  far  off,  brought  and  piled  it  high  over,  around,  and  on 
the  grave. 

The  Comanches  had  taken  two  scalp-locks  from  him; 
had  stretched  him  straight  out;  had  cut  a  gash  in  each 
temple  and  one  at  the  navel;  and  had  placed  a  point  of 
his  three-pronged  rest-stick  in  each  knife  insertion  and 
left  the  grewsome  sight  as  we  found  it.  There  were  21 
bloated  unskinned  buffalo  carcasses  lying  from  60  to  200 
yards  from  the  body. 

Our  party  was  of  the  opinion  that  some  of  these  Indians 


STORY  OF  THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  195 

had  slipped  up  on  Sewall  while  he  was  absorbed  in  his 
work  of  kilhng  the  buffaloes,  and  had  given  him  a  fatal 
shot  from  behind  him;  that  the  circle-riding  that  Wild 
Skillet  spoke  about  was  done  after  he  had  received  his 
mortal  wound.  Sewall  had  a  long-range  45  Creedmoor 
Sharp's,  a  nearly  new  gun,  and  he  was  known  on  the  range 
as  a  dead  shot.  He  was  cool,  level-headed,  and  a  man  of 
great  nerve.  We  conjectured  that  they  had  sneaked  up 
on  him,  as  it  was  customary  among  all  Indians  to  do 
so  where  the  lay  of  the  ground  or  circumstances  per- 
mitted. For  had  Marshall  Sewall  had  any  chance  at  all, 
there  would  most  undoubtedly  have  been  one  or  more 
dead  Indians. 

Such  could,  and  may  have  been  the  case,  and  their  bodies 
carried  away,  as  was  the  rule  with  the  Indians,  when  they 
could  obtain  them.  The  Indians  took  SewalFs  gun  and 
also  secured  with  it  nearly  seventy-five  rounds  of  ammu- 
nition. They  got  the  team  the  boys  abandoned  and 
Sewairs  huntmg-horse. 

From  where  the  wagon  was  abandoned  we  trailed  the 
Indians  back  to  where  they  killed  Sewall  and  on  toward 
the  Staked  Plains,  which  were  in  sight.  After  following 
the  trail  about  three  miles  we  halted  on  a  hill.  With  the 
field-glasses  we  could  see  into  the  defile  in  which  the  In- 
dians were  encamped.  But. we  did  not  know  it  at  that 
time.  We  had  lightened  the  pack-mule  at  Devins's  camp, 
so  as  to  give  Wild  Skillet  a  mount.  From  here  we  all  went 
back  to  that  place.  Wild  Skillet  told  us  that  Moccasin 
Jim  had  gone  to  the  Englishmen's  camp  to  warn  them, 
they  not  having  heard  of  their  misfortune.  And  that  he 
himself  was  hmiting  for  Devins's  camp,  not  knowing  that 
it  had  been  destroyed ;  that  when  he  had  found  our  trail, 
he  was  sure  it  was  white  men,  and  had  followed  it.     It 


196  THE   BORDER   AND   THE    BUFFALO'. 

was  decided  at  Devins's  camp  to  send  me  back  to  Rath's 
over  the  route  we  came  out  on;  to  make  the  report,  and 
get  all  who  would  to  come  and  we  would  clean  out  the 
Comanches. 

My  instructions  were  to  have  West  send  a  wagon-load* 
of  supplies  to  the  Godey  camp,  which  location  was  now 
generally  known  to  the  hunters.  This  camp  was  ten 
miles  east  of  Devins's,  but  quite  a  distance  south  of  the 
route  we  came  out  on.  In  addition,  I  was  to  inform  the 
men  at  Rath's  that  the  provisions  would  be  expected  to  be 
at  Godey 's  camp  the  next  night.  They  further  instructed 
me  to  say  that  they  would  stay  in  the  danger  region  as  an 
observation  party,  and  would  try  to  look  up  the  English- 
men, and  would  watch  for  the  Indians  until  the  provisions 
came. 

''Come  back  with  the  grub  yourself,  Cook,  and  bring 
as  many  of  the  boys  along  with  you  as  you  can,"  was  the 
parting  injunction. 

I  left  them  about  four  o'clock  in  the  evening,  taking 
the  back  trail.  I  rode  a  moderate  gait  until  a  little  after 
sundown.  I  then  dismounted,  slipped  the  bridle-bits 
from  Keno's  mouth  and  let  him  graze.  I  had  a  cake  of 
frying-pan  bread  and  some  fried  hump-meat,  which  I  ate. 
I  then  lay  down  a  while,  to  give  Keno  time  to  eat  a  little 
longer.  In  spite  of  myself,  I  was  soon  sound  asleep.  I 
had  intended  to  ride  on  to  the  Clear  Fork  trail  yet  that 
night. 

When  I  awoke,  it  was  very  suddenly,  Keno  was  lying 
down.  The  stars  were  shining  brightly ;  and  apparently 
there  was  no  breeze.  The  very  stillness  made  me  rest- 
less. I  had  not  unsaddled  my  horse,  and  when  I  lay  down 
I  was  holding  the  end  of  the  lariat  in  my  right  hand; 
the  horse  had  not  gone  to  the  end  of  it.     I  went  up  to  him, 


STORY  OF  THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.    ,  197 

and  patting  him  gently  on  the  neck,  said:  "Well,  Keno, 
let's  be  going."  I  was  now  about  twenty-three  miles 
from  Rath's,  and  giving  Keno  a  loose  rein,  with  his  long- 
reaching,  flat-footed  walk  he  stuck  to  the  trail  and  with 
each  step  was  shortening  the  distance;  while  I,  never 
more  wakeful,  rode  along  and  thought. 

At  first  my  mind  went  back  to  that  lonely  apology  for 
a  grave.  I  had  met  its  occupant  three  different  times  at 
widely  separated  places  on  the  range.  He  was  an  edu- 
cated man,  a  native  of  Pennsylvania.  He  was  a  man  who 
possessed  a  useful  fund  of  information.  He  was  not 
obtrusive,  but  was  courteous  and  polite ;  respected  others^ 
opinions  even  where  he  differed  from  them.  He  neither 
drank  nor  used  tobacco,  and  profanity  never  escaped 
his  lips.  He  was  not  a  professed  Christian,  but  believed 
in  the  observance  of  the  Golden  Rule.  He  was  a  bom 
politician,  and  would  have  been  an  excellent  statesman. 
He  was  a  man  of  hopeful,  optimistic  tendencies ;  and  why 
should  he  have  been  taken  when  such  men  as  Hurricane 
Bill,  Dutch  Henry,  Squaw  Johnny,  and  some  others  that 
I  had  in  mind  could  roam  these  prairies,  disregarding  law 
and  morality,  with  a  price  placed  on  some  of  their  heads, 
as  we  hunters  afterward  learned?  Then  I  thought  of  the 
rations,  blankets,  and  clothing  of  all  kinds  which  the 
Government  was  issuing  to  these  very  Indians  at  Fort 
Sill,  when  they  stayed  on  their  reservations;  then  I 
thought  of  the  old  map  of  Texas,  this  lone  Star  State, 
where  was  written  across  a  great  colored  patch  covering 
this  very  ground  I  was  now  riding  over,  ^^  Kiowa  and 
Comanche  Hunting  Grounds.'^ 

Why  did  Texas  ever  concede  that  these  were  their 
hunting  grounds?  Did  these  Indians  know  that  these 
grounds  were  conceded  to  them  for  hunting  purposes? 


STORY   OF  THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  199 

If  SO,  then  the  Comanche  had  some  excuse.  Then  again 
I  thought  of  what  General  Sheridan  said,  which  every 
old-time  army  ojficer  with  whom  I  talked  sanctioned: 
"Destroy  the  buffaloes  and  make  a  lasting  peace,"  on  this 
scalp-lock,  blood-stained  border. 

Then  I  thought  of  the  Boston  man  with  his  sentimental 
gush  about  '^Lo,  the  poor  Indian .'  "  In  my  mind  I  would 
pilot  him  out  to  that  lonely  spot,  and  watch  him  as  he 
gazed  on  the  mutilated  remains  of  one  of  the  noblest 
specimens  of  American  manhood  between  the  two  oceans ; 
I  would  point  out  to  him  those  two  places,  just  in  front 
of  and  above  the  temples,  where  the  bare  skull  was  show- 
ing ;  the  places,  too,  where  the  two  scalp-locks  were  taken 
from  him,  thus  violating  an  unwritten  law  among  the  In- 
dian race  to  "never  take  but  one  scalp  from  a  white  man." 

Up  to  this  time  I  had  been  imbued  with  the  idea  that 
wild  Indians  had  some  sense  of  justice,  but  none  of  mercy; 
but  in  this  case  they  had  neither. 

Yes,  Mr.  Boston  man,  I  would  have  you  see  one  of  the 
most  horrible  sights  that  mortal  ever  gazed  upon,  a  part  of 
which  will  not  be  printed  in  this  book,  on  account  of  the 
blush  it  would  bring  to  the  cheeks  of  the  reader. 

Then,  I  want  you  to  go  back  to  Boston  and  take  a  big 
think  ! 

Thus  in  silence  I  rode  on,  and  when  the  Great  Dipper, 
that  ever-reliable  timepiece  of  the  firmament,  revolving 
around  the  North  Star,  warned  me  that  the  early  morn- 
ing hour  was  approaching,  I  was  still  wakeful.  Keno, 
walking  at  will,  had  carried  me  some  little  ways  down  the 
Clear  Fork  trail,  when  suddenly  he  filed  to  the  left  to  a 
water-hole  that  I  knew  nothing  of,  but  which  he  must 
have  scented.  After  quenching  his  thirst,  we  returned 
to  the  trail  and  pressed  on  our  journey. 


200         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

Shortly  after  the  sun  had  risen  I  was  at  Rath's,  among 
the  hunters.  The  crowd  had  augmented  considerably 
during  my  two  days'  absence.  The  camps  were  numerous 
and  close  together.  While  riding  in,  I  was  observed  from 
some  distance,  and  when  I  dismourited,  near  the  store,  I 
was  surrounded  by  an  eager  crowd.  West  being  present. 

After  briefly  stating  the  situation  and  delivering  the 
instructions  the  boys  had  given  me,  many  expressions 
were  uttered,  both  of  regret  at  Sewall's  death  and  a  will- 
ingness to  help.  I  was  told  that  arrangements  would  be 
made  immediately  to  send  provisions  to  Godey's  camp, 
Godey  having  tendered  a  team  and  himself.  West 
brought  Keno  a  feed  of  oats  and  took  me  to  the  store, 
where  his  cook  had  breakfast  ready.  After  I  had  eaten, 
West  pointed  to  his  bed  and  said:  "Now,  Cook,  go  to 
bed,  and  we  boys  will  see  that  everything  is  in  readiness 
by  the  time  you  get  a  good  sleep." 

But  sleep  was  out  of  the  question  with  me.  I  went 
outside.  Just  across  the  way  about  a  good  street's  width 
was  a  saloon  and  restaurant,  and  coming  out  of  it  was  my 
old  friend  Charlie  Hart.  He  was  about  three  sheets  in 
the  wind,  but  he  recognized  me  at  once,  and  gave  me  a 
hearty  greeting.  At  the  same  time  taking  hold  of  me,  he 
led  me  back  with  him  to  the  saloon.  There  were  about 
twenty  men  inside,  but  only  three  that  I  had  met  before. 
Hart  called  the  crowd  up  to  drink,  after  which  I  said: 
"Now,  boys,  how  many  of  you  are  ready  to  go  out  and 
help  hunt  the  Quohada  Comanches?"  And  to  my  surprise, 
chagrin  and  disgust,  only  four  declared  themselves  willing 
to  go. 

The  temporary  bar-tender  at  this  time  was  Limpy  Jim 
Smith,  an  ex-road-agent  from  Montana.  I  had  heard  a 
good  deal  about  the  man,  but  had  never  met  him  before. 


STORY   OF   THE   SOUTHWEST    PLAINS.  201 

As  I  started  to  leave  the  place,  he  came  from  behind  the 
bar,  and,  taking  me  by  the  hand,  said:  "Wait  a  moment; 
I'll  go  with  you,  and  we  wiU  organize."  This  man  Smith 
had  2000  hides  that  he  had  taken  since  the  last  of  Novem- 
ber. He  thought  they  were  in  a  safe  place,  for  they  were 
on  the  big  flat-top  still  east  toward  the  settlements ;  "  but," 
said  he,  "that  is  neither  here  nor  there.  We  have  just 
got  to  fight!" 

Tom  Lumpkins  said:  "Well,  I  have  not  lost  any  In- 
dians and  I  don't  propose  to  hunt  any."  This  remark 
brought  on  some  sharp  words  between  Smith  and  Lump- 
kins,  which  ended  in  the  death  of  Lumpkins  a  month  later. 

The  regular  bartender  having  come  to  his  work  of  deal- 
ing out  fishberries  and  rain-water  for  whisky.  Smith  and 
I  went  to  where  a  big  crowd  were  discussing  the  question 
of  the  hour.  As  we  approached  the  crowd,  big  tall  Hank 
Campbell  came  forward  and  shook  hands  with  me,  say- 
ing, "John,  I'm  going  with  you."  Godey  had  now  driven 
up  in  front  of  the  store.  West  jumped  up  into  the  wagon 
and  called  for  the  crowd  to  assemble,  after  which  he  stated 
that  "the  company  he  represented  would  furnish  any 
amount  of  supplies  that  the  hunters  wanted,  now  or  here- 
after, to  use  while  defending  themselves  against  the  In- 
dians and  clearing  the  range  of  the  Comanches."  He 
added:  "Here  is  a  wagon  and  team  ready  to  start  for 
Godey's  camp,  by  request  of  the  eighteen  men  that  found 
poor  Sewall's  body.  Now,  boys,  let's  have  a  general  ex- 
pression as  to  the  best  means  to  adopt  after  starting  these 
supplies." 

Smoky  Hill  Thompson,  who  was  standing  pretty  well 
back  in  the  crowd,  commenced  to  talk,  when  he  was  in- 
terrupted by,  "Louder!  Come  up  here;  get  on  the  wagon 
and   speak   out!"    And,   suiting   actions   to   words,  the 


202        THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

venerable  old  plainsman  was  picked  up  bodily  by  strong 
men  and  carried  to  the  wagon.  He  was  an  old  white- 
headed  veteran  of  the  frontier,  one  of  the  last  of  the  Kit 
Carson  type.  He  had  hunted,  trapped,  and  fought  In- 
dians from  the  Rocky  Mountains  to  the  Missouri  river, 
and  from  the  international  boundary  on  the  north  to  the 
Arkansas  river  on  the  south.  He  knew  the  habits,  man- 
ners, customs,  tricks,  strategies  and  tactics  of  the  Plains 
Indian  as  well  as  the  Indian  himself  did.  The  vast  country 
he  had  roamed  over  was  on  open  book  to  him.  His  so- 
briquet was  given  to  him  on  account  of  his  last  and  longest 
residence  in  any  one  place,  the  Smoky  Hill  river,  where 
Kansas  and  Colorado  meet.  ''Boys,"  he  said,  in  slow, 
deliberate  words,  ''first  start  this  outfit  to  Godey's;  then 
organize  two  separate  companies,  one  to  go  out  and  fight 
the  Indians,  the  other  to  stay  here  to  protect  and  defend 
this  place  and  care  for  all  the  extra  stock.  Some  of  you 
hunters  have  from  four  to  eight  head  of  stock,  and  those 
that  are  not  taken  on  the  expedition  must  be  taken  out 
of  the  country,  or  well  guarded.  This  place  will  most 
likely  be  the  storm-center.  Those  Indians  have  seen 
those  acres  of  hide-piles,  and  their  revenge  will  be  terrible ; 
and  this  place,  in  my  opinion,  will  be  visited." 

Smoky  was  right,  as  the  sequel  will  show.  His  words 
were  accepted  by  many  of  the  hunters,  and  none  dissented. 
I  called  Campbell,  Carr,  and  Bill  Kress  into  the  store,  where 
the  clerks  were  getting  the  supplies  ready  which  I  was  to 
take  with  me. 

I  said :  "  Now,  Hank,  you  spoke  to-day  of  going  with  me, 
but  I  believe  you  will  do  more  good  in  the  long  run  by 
staying  here  and  helping  in  this  organization;  for  you 
boys  all  know  there  has  got  to  be  some  sifting  done. 
There  are  men  here  to-day  who  will  be  in  Fort  Griffin, 


STORY  OF  THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  203 

near  the  garrison,  before  to-morrow  night.  You,  Carr, 
know  of  two  men  whom  we  do  not  want  on  the  expedition ; 
and  there  may  be  many  others.  But  you,  boys,  go  ahead 
and  do  the  best  you  can.  Joe  Freed  expects  me  to  be  at 
Godey's  camp  to-night;  I'll  tell  the  boys  what  you  are 
doing." 

'*In  that  case,"  said  Carr,  "there  is  no  need  of  more 
than  four  or  five  of  the  boys  going  with  you  to-day,  is 
there?     But  we  ought  to  keep  in  communication." 

They  agreed  that  they  would  proceed  at  once  to  effect 
an  organization,  and  send  two  men  to  us  as  soon  as  it  was 
completed,  with  a  list  of  the  names  of  the  men  who  were  to 
compxDse  the  field  force. 

''All  right,  then,  boys ;  now  get  me  the  four  or  five  men 
ks  you  suggested  and  we  will  be  off,  for  the  time  is  passing. 
Get  Squirrel-eye  for  one,  if  you  can." 

Hart  lent  me  his  hunting-horse  for  the  occasion ;  I  tied 
him  behind  the  wagon,  saddled  and  bridled.  After  the 
things  were  all  put  into  the  wagon,  I  spread  some  blankets 
over  them  and  lay  down.  Soon  Squirrel-eye,  Billy  Devins 
and  three  others  whom  I  did  not  know,  started,  Godey 
himself  driving  the  team.  It  was  not  long  until  I  was 
asleep.  I  had  come  in  there,  and  in  less  than  three  hours 
we  were  all  on  the  road  back.  We  had  ample  provisions, 
and  besides  this  enough  ammunition  for  two  weeks,  and , 
oats  enough  to  give  each  animal  a  moderate-sized  feed 
for  several  days.  We  stopped  a  little  after  midday.  I 
was  sound  asleep  when  Godey  shook  me,  saying,  ''Hate 
to  wake  you,  but  we're  camped  for  dinner." 

After  dinner  we  pulled  on,  and,  seeing  we  would  not 
make  his  camp  before  dark,  Godey  and  I  rode  ahead. 
When  we  came  in  sight  of  the  camp  and  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  from  it,  we  saw  men  moving  around  the  hide-piles. 


204         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

They  had  the  two  Englishmen  and  Moccasin  Jim  with  them, 
but  had  lost  all  of  their  horses  but  three.  They  got  into 
a  fight  that  day  in  the  forenoon  with  the  Indians,  and  dis- 
mounted to  fight  them  on  foot  and  advanced  on  the  Indian 
camp.  Nigger  Horse  had  sent  some  of  his  warriors  in  a 
roundabout  way,  and  they  had  got  in  the  rear  of  the  boys 
and  got  all  of  the  horses  but  three  head.  One  of  the  men, 
Spotted  Jack,  was  badly  wounded ;  and  three  others  were 
slightly  wounded.  Their  '4ong-range  guns  had  done  good 
work,"  they  said;  and  when  they  were  forced  to  retreat 
they  kept  the  Indians  so  far  away  with  their  long-range 
guns  that  the  Indians  did  poor  execution  with  their  short- 
range  guns.  They  could  distinguish  the  difference  by  the 
sound  of  SewalFs  gun  from  the  Indians'  rim-and-center- 
fire  Winchesters,  models  of  73,  that  they  were  mostly 
using.  The  boys  were  certain  they  had  killed  the  Indian 
that  was  first  using  the  Sewall  gun.  They  were  close  to 
the  Indians'  stronghold,  but  they  were  in  the  rocks,  broken 
fragments  and  disconnected  slides  that  had  fallen  from  the 
perpendicular  escarpment  of  the  Staked  Plains. 

The  contour,  or  lay  of  the  ground,  was  such  that  they 
deemed  they  had  gone  as  close  as  was  consistent  with  good 
judgment,  against  a  natural  fortress,  and  they  just  had  to 
retreat. 

Spotted  Jack,  regardless  of  the  nature  of  the  wound  he 
had  received,  was  able  to  walk  in ;  and  they  were  all  there. 
But  each  one  was  censuring  himseK  for  his  rashness. 

Godey  said:  '^Well,  boys,  this  is  no  place  to  be  to-night. 
Let's  go  back,  meet  the  wagon,  and  I'll  take  you  into  a 
place  where  we  can  hold  our  own  if  they  should  come  onto 
us." 

We  met  the  wagon,  and  went  to  the  place  designated. 
It  was  now  after  dark.    Six  of  us  immediately  went  on 


STORY   OF   THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  205 

guard.  Most  of  the  rest  got  supper.  They  built  a  fire 
under  a  cliff  in  a  Httle  gorge. 

When  morning  came  we  all  pulled  for  Rath's,  leaving 
nearly  all  the  pro\isions  and  grain  at  Godey's.  Squirrel- 
eye  and  Freed  hurried  on  ahead,  to  report.  After  they 
had  gone  nearly  half  the  way  they  met  the  two  messengers 
who  were  to  come  to  us  at  Godey's.  The  rest  of  us  reached 
Rath's  that  evening.  Two  days  later  we  left  Rath's. 
There  were  npw  forty-five  all  told,  of  perhaps  the  best- 
armed  and  equipped  outfit  of  men  that  ever  went  against 
Indians  without  artillery.  I  had  bought  a  Creedmoor  45 
Sharp's  at  Fort  Elliott  the  fall  before  and  most  of  the  old 
hunters  were  now  using  that  caliber.  They  were  long- 
range  guns,  and  by  continuous  practice  most  hunters  had 
become  good  judges  of  distances  and  had  learned  to  shoot 
pretty  accurately  by  raising  the  muzzle  of  the  gun,  without 
raising  or  lowering  the  rear  graduated  sights. 

As  had  been  predicted,  fully  125  men  had  left  the  range 
going  east,  northeast,  and  southeast,  into  the  Henrietta, 
Phantom  Hill,  and  Fort  Griffin  country.  Eighty-five  men 
had  pledged  themselves,  the  day  we  left  Rath's  to  go  to 
Godey's  camp,  that  they  would  go  to  the  front,  and  forty- 
five  t)f  us  were  now  actually  going.  We  started  with  three 
wagons,  all  loaded  with  provisions,  horse  feed,  camp  equip- 
age, bedding,  medicines,  lints,  and  bandages. 

All  the  other  wagons  were  closely  parked  near  the  store. 
Smoky  Hill  Thompson  was  left  in  command  and  in  charge 
of  all  the  extra  stock  not  required  on  the  trip.  West  was 
his  assistant  in  charge. 

They  had  nearly  100  men  at  first,  but  the  outfit  gradually 
diminished  in  numbers  until  there  were  but  forty-two 
faithfuls,  when  we  returned  on  the  22d  day  of  March. 

Our  party  was  commanded  by  Hank  Campbell  1st,  Jim 


206         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

Smith  2d,  and  Joe  Freed  3d  in  command.  Thirty  of  us 
were  to  be  mounted;  fifteen  footmen  to  be  escort  and 
wagon  guard.  There  were  from  100  to  250  rounds  of  am- 
munition to  each  man,  beside  bar  lead,  powder,  primers, 
and  reloading  outfits.  We  took  the  route  to  the  Sewall 
camp,  going  by  the  way  of  the  Godey  camp.  We  made 
short  drives  each  day,  keeping  out  advance  and  rear  guards, 
and  three  scouts  in  advance  of  all. 

We  had  with  us  Hosea,  one  of  General  McKinzie's  scouts 
during  the  1874  war.  He  knew  the  country  thoroughly, 
from  where  we  were  to  the  Pecos  river.  He  was  a  Mexican 
who  could  speak  no  EngUsh,  and  understand  precious  little. 

The  first  night's  camp  demonstrated  the  fact  that  some 
things  were  overlooked  in  the  organization  of  this  inde- 
pendent little  army.  A  quartermaster  to  issue  grain  was 
needed,  and  Ben  Jackson  was  appointed  to  fill  that  office. 
The  medical  supplies  ought  to  be  in  charge  of  some  par- 
ticular person,  and  that  department  was  turned  over  to  a 
former  druggist,  Shorty  Woodson,  the  tallest,  shmmest 
man  on  the  range. 

Then  Campbell  wanted  an  advisory  board,  five  of  whom 
lie  appointed  rather  at  random,  myself  being  included  in 
the  number.  There  was  a  roster  kept  by  Powder-face 
Hudson.  From  this  roster  the  guards  were  detailed  in 
rotation.  In  fact,  everything  was  done  that  could  be 
done  to  promote  order,  discipline  and  harmony.  There 
were  several  ex-Confederate  soldiers  and  Union  ex-soldiers 
who  had  joined  issues  in  a  common  cause.  There  were 
three  school-teachers.  All  the  party  were  native-born 
Americans  with  the  exception  of  the  two  Englishmen, 
whose  camp  had  been  destroyed. 

When  we  had  arrived  within  five  miles  of  the  Indian 
stronghold  a  reconnoissance  was  made,  and  the  fact  was 


STORY   OF   THE    SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  207 

apparent  that  the  Indians  had  fled;  they  had  gone  up  a 
narrow  defile  onto  the  Staked  Plains  proper. 

We  now  had  to  send  our  wagons  some  distance  south 
along  the  base  of  the  escarpment,  where,  through  and  up 
a  narrow,  winding,  steep  incline,  we  managed,  by  doubling 
teams  and  pushing  by  hand,  to  get  them  on  top. 

We  were  now  on  the  Llano  Estacado,  or  "yamer,'* 
as  the  old  Texans  call  it.  We  found  that  the  Indians  had 
burned  two  tepees  in  their  camp.  In  Indian  signification 
this  meant  they  had  had  two  deaths.  The  boys  who  were 
foolish  enough  to  crowd  onto  them  in  their  almost  impreg- 
nable fortress  had  killed  two  of  their  number. 

After  the  Indians  had  gotten  on  top  of  the  plains  they 
scattered  like  quails,  some  going  up,  some  down  the  edge 
of  the  escarpment.  They  traveled  in  small  parties  over 
the  short,  thick,  matted,  curly  mesquite  grass,  their  dif- 
ferent routes  resembling  the  palm  of  the  hand  with  the 
fingers  spread  out,  they  traveling  from  the  wrist  to  the 
point  or  tips  of  the  finger-ends. 

We  spent  an  entire  day  ferreting  out  these  many  dim 
trails  to  where  they  converged  again  far  out  on  the  plains. 
Not  a  lodge-pole  had  been  dragged  travois-fashion  to  here, 
but  from  here  a  travois  trail  started  northeast  toward 
Fort  Sill.    There  had  been  a  dry  camp  for  night  here. 

Here  the  wily  old  Nigger  Horse,  reasonably  expecting 
us  to  follow  him,  thought  he  would  fool  us  by  making  us 
believe  he  was  fleeing  back  to  his  reservation;  and  for 
another  day,  like  the  political  fixers  at  a  convention,  he 
kept  us  guessing. 

The  pony  signs  at  this  camp  indicated  that  they  must 
have  six  or  seven  hundred  head.  Signs  were  scattered 
over  more  than  a  square  mile ;  and  here  at  this  camp  the 
old  chief  had  played  his  ruse  by  starting  a  travois  trail  to- 


208         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

wards  Fort  Sill,  when  as  a  matter  of  fact  he  had  sent  his 
women  and  children  on  west  to  the  extreme  head  of  Thomp- 
son's Canon,  twenty  miles  east  of  the  Casa  Amarilla  (Span- 
ish for  Yellow  House),  so  called  on  account  of  a  bold 
rugged  bluff  with  natural  and  excavated  caverns  dug  out 
by  these  Indians  thirty  years  before.  On  top  of  this  bluff 
was  a  stone  half-circle  breastwork.  This  is  the  place 
where,  at  the  time  mentioned,  the  entire  Sioux  nation  came 
down  from  their  northern  homes  and  fought  the  Cheyenne, 
Arapahoe,  Kiowa  and  Comanche  alliance.  We  followed 
the  travois  trail  to  Thonipson's  Canon.  There  we  found 
a  night  camp,  where  they  had  held  a  scalp-  and  war-dance. 
There  was  a  circle  thirty-five  feet  in  diameter  literally 
tramped  and  padded  down,  where  in  their  night  orgies 
they  probably  eulogized  each  other  as  big  braves. 

From  this  camp  they  continued  their  travois  trail  north 
toward  White  Canon,  and  after  getting  about  six  miles 
out  on  g,  great  plain,  as  level  as  a  smooth  sea,  they  com- 
menced to  scatter  out  again,  dropping  their  lodge-poles 
as  they  went.  Then  it  was  more  guess-work,  and  this 
time  we  guessed  right,  that  the  camp  was  up  Thompson's 
Canon  back  of  us  and  up  the  stream  from  where  we  crossed 
it.     We  turned  to  the  southwest. 

I  was  ordered  to  go  with  and  stay  with  the  Mexican 
scout  and-  guide.  I  could  now  talk  a  little  Greaser  and 
make  understandable  signs,  and  Hosea  wanted  me  with 
him.  Here  was  where  Commander  Campbell's  advisory 
board  assumed  its  first  prerogative.  At  the  request  of 
the  guide  we  advised  that  the  entire  outfit  should  stop  and 
wait  for  a  signal  from  us.  That  was  Hosea,  Louie  Keyes, 
and  myself.  We  were  to  ride  on  to  the  canon  and  follow 
it  up,  looking  for  Indian  signs,  and  if  we  thought  that  the 
Indians  were  still  above  us,  that  one  of  us  would  ride  back 


STORY   OF  THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  209 

in  sight  of  the  outfit  and  ride  his  horse  in  a  circle  until  he 
was  answered  by  a  horseman;  that  Campbell  would  send 
out  to  one  side  and  ride  around  in  the  same  manner  as  the 
scout  did.  That  would  mean  for  the  entire  party  to  come 
on  to  the  place  where  the  scout  was. 

This  beifag  thoroughly  understood,  the  three  of  us  started 
and  rode  quite  rapidly  for  about  seven  or  eight  miles. 
Then  we  were  on  the  breaks  of  the  canon.  Here  we  halted, 
and  with  our  field-glasses  we  scanned  the  cafion  up  and 
down  as  far  as  the  windings  of  the  same  would  permit. 
Then  we  took  the  Ipng-range  view,  and  looking  back  to 
where  we  had  left  the  boys  we  could  see  them  as  plainly 
as  we  could  see  them  with  the  naked  eye  had  they  been 
dose  to  us.  There  was  a  higher  bluff  on  up  the  canon 
nearly  a  mile,  and  upon  looking  to  the  south  and  west  a 
distance  of  perhaps  five  or  six  miles  we  plainly  saw  five 
pack  animals  loaded  with  meat,  and  ten  Indians,  seven 
of  which  we  made  out  to  be  squaws.  They  were  all  strung 
out  in  single  file  and  were  going  west. 

"Now,"  said  the  Mexican  guide,  "I  know  where  their 
camp  is."  That  was  what  every  one  wanted  to  know. 
We  watched  them  for  several  minutes,  they  still  going 
west  until  they  passed  over  a  rise  in  the  ground  and  out 
of  sight  on  the  slope  of  the  draw  at  the  extreme  head- 
waters of  the  Thompson  Canon,  which  Hosea  told  us  was 
about  eight  miles  from  where  we  were. 

Louie  Keyes  now  rode  back  toward  our  boys  for  about 
two  miles,  and  he  rode  the  circle.  Hosea  and  I  looked 
until  we  saw  one  of  the  men  ride  from  the  outfit  and  he 
rode  the  circle  in  response.  Then  we  saw  the  whole  out- 
fit in  motion,  coming  toward  us.  This  was  plains  teleg- 
raphy. The  man  who  invented  long-visional  binoculars 
was  surely  a  benefactor.     In  this  case  they  were  a  great 


210         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

economizer  of  horseflesh,  and  told  us,  as  it  were,  where 
the  Indians  were  encamped,  though  Hosea  and  I  were 
eight  miles  from  them.  Upon  looking  again  we  saw 
several  more  Indians  with  pack-ponies  going  out  from 
where  the  camp  was  supposed  to  be,  traveling  in  the  di- 
rection the  loaded  ones  came  from.  This  was  evident 
proof,  in  my  mind,  that  the  camp  was  located  where  the 
guide  had  indicated. 

Everyone  who  has  followed  up  the  Thompson  Canon 
of  the  Double  Mountain  Fork  of  the  Brazos  well  remem- 
bers the  grand,  bold  cold-water  stream  that  comes  flowing 
out  of  a  nearly  perpendicular  bluff  from  the  south  side. 
Just  below  this  place  is  a  side  draw  with  an  overhanging 
cliff  where  the  ail-but  level  plain  comes  up  to,  and  which 
is  in  the  form  of  a  crescent.  "  Venga  aca,  Senor  Cocinero  I  '^ 
(Come  here,  Mr.  Cook),  said  the  Mexican,  who  had  ridden 
some  200  yards  farther  up  the  canon,  while  I  was  first 
looking  at  the  Indians  and  back  towards  our  approach- 
ing hunters.  When  I  rode  up  to  where  he  was  he  pointed 
down  to  this  best  of  hiding-places  and  said:  '^Esta  hueno 
campo  ;  Indio  no  le  viese^'  (This  is  a  good  camp;  the 
Indians  can't  see  it.)  I  told  him  to  stay  here  and  keep  a 
good  lookout  until  I  returned. 

I  then  rode  back  to  where  Louie  Keyes  was,  and  said, 
"Let's  move  so  as  to  lead  the  boys  into  the  canon  below 
here,  then  follow  it  up.  Their  camp  is  surely  where  Hosea 
said  it  was.  And  you  know  yesterday  it  was  agreed  in  a 
general  talk  that  we  must  try  to  surprise  their  camp,  and 
open  up  on  it  just  at  the  peep  of  day  if  we  could  do  so. 
There  is  a  splendid  place  to  hide  ourselves,  horses,  wagons 
and  all,  just  a  little  way  above  where  you  left  us;  and  if 
we  can  only  get  there  without  being  seen  by  them  I'll 
caU  it  good  luck." 


STORY  OF  THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  211 

"In  that  case,"  he  said,  ''I  will  ride  right  to  them  and 
report  to  you  all  we  have  found."  And  at  a  good  gallop 
he  was  off. 

I  rode  south  to,  and  a  little  down,  the  breaks  of  the 
canon,  and,  finding  a  natural,  easy  descent  into  it,  I  dis- 
mounted and  awaited  the  arrival  of  the  outfit. 

Before  leaving  Rath's  Store  I  was  offered  the  use  of  a 
large  chestnut-sorrel  horse  that  was  noted  for  his  speed 
and  endurance.  He  was  high-strung  and  of  a  rather 
nervous  temperament,  and  his  owner  had  become  afraid 
of  him,  and  was  glad  to  have  me  accept  him.  I  was  glad 
to  get  him,  for  in  case  of  a  run  I  was  sure  of  being  well 
mounted. 

When  the  expedition  came  up,  Campbell  left  two  men 
on  top  of  the  plain,  who  were  to  remain  there  and  take 
observations  until  called  into  camp.  He  then  sent  Keyes 
and  myself  forward  with  orders  to  move  lively  and  rejoin 
the  Mexican,  Hosea.  We  hurried  up  the  canon  until  we 
got  nearly  up  to  the  place  where  we  had  seen  the  Indians 
from,  when  we  slowed  down,  and  rode  up  on  top.  Taking 
our  glasses  in  hand,  we  looked  the  country  well  over  and 
concluded  we  had  not  been  seen. 

Campbell  had  taken  the  precaution  to  tell  the  boys 
there  would  be  no  firing  of  guns,  except  at  Indians.  Hosea 
had  left  his  horse  in  the  canon  and  was  then  crouched 
down  on  a  high  point  above  where  the  big  spring  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  canon  was.  He  was  bareheaded,  and 
with  his  field-glasses  to  his  face  he  was  looking  on  up  the 
canon.  Louie  said,  "I'll  bet  he  doesn't  know  we  are  here." 
He  had  just  spoken  the  words,  when  Hosea  crouched  down 
lower  and  worked  himself  more  downhill.  Then  he  rose  up 
and  ran  down,  toward  his  horse  as  fast  as  he  could,  saying, 
*^Vengaaca!    venga  oca  !  "     (Come  here!    Come  here!) 


212         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

We  both  plunged  our  horses  off  of  the  steep  decline 
and  were  soon  near  his  horse,  with  Hosea  a  close  second. 
I  will  here  omit  the  Mexican  lingo;  he  said  that  "One 
Indian  had  crossed  the  canon  about  a  mile  and  a  half 
above  and  was  riding  northeast,  and  he  believed  he  was 
a  scout  out  to  see  if  they  were  being  followed,  and  if  he 
discovers  us,  and  gets  back  to  camp,  they  will  break  camp 
immediately,  go  to  some  of  the  lakes,  and  then  it  will  be 
hard  to  catch  them." 

I  said,  ''Wait  a  little,"  and  dismounting,  I  handed 
Louie  my  horse's  bridle-rein  and  ran  up  the  hill,  on  the 
north  side.  As  I  neared  the  top,  I  took  off  my  hat  and 
with  field-glasses  in  hand  I  looked  and  walked  still  higher 
until  I  was  high  enough  to  take  in  all  the  surroundings 
for  a  mile,  and  there,  sure  enough,  not  three-quarters  of  a 
mile  from  us  was  a  Quohada  Comanche  warrior.  Raising 
the  glasses  to  my  face,  I  could  bring  him  .closely  to  me. 
He  was  riding  easterly  down  the  canon. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

The  Warrior's  Last  Ride.— Muffled  Feet— Bit  OflF  More  Than  We 
Could  Chew. — The  Cunning  Warriors  Tricked  Us. — We  Carried 
Water  in  My  Boots. — Captain  Lee  Captures  Their  Camp. — How 
Lurapkins  was  Killed. — The  Sewall  Gun  Hoodooed  the  Coman- 
ches. — The  Blood-curdling  YeU,  and  We  were  Afoot. — They  Sure 
Waked  Us  Up. — Gathering  the.  Clans. 

I  ran  down  the  hill.  Remounting,  I  said,  "Come  on, 
boys."  Down  the  canon  we  went,  meeting  the  expe- 
dition. After  a  brief  report,  Campbell  said:  "We  must 
get  him,  or  he  will  ndc  on  down,  strike  our  tr|il,  and  give 
the  whole  thing  away."  He  added:  "Say,  Keyes,  you 
are  an  Injun.  Can't  you  get  that  fellow?"  Then  he 
ordered  Freed  "to  go  up  on  the  hill  and  watch  him." 
When  he  got  up  on  the  hill,  which  was  only  a  few  rods 
from  us,  he  said  to  us,  "Now,  boys,  keep  perfectly  quiet. 
He  is  in  a  fox  trot,  going  east,  and  he  is  coming  in  closer 
to  the  canon."  One  of  the  Englishmen,  whose  camp  had 
been  plundered  and  destroyed,  slipped  ofif  from  a  wagon, 
ran  up  the  hillside  and  said:  "Where  is  the  bloody  cuss? 
I  want  to  kill  him  myself." 

Keyes  had  ridden  back  down  the  canon  and  had  gone 
up  a  side  draw  to  intercept  and  kill  him  as  he  passed. 
By  this  time  two  of  the  other  boys  had  joined  Freed,  and, 
all  unconscious  of  his  near  approaching  death,  the  Quohada 
Comanche  was  nearing  the  breaks. 

The  Englishman  was  armed  with  an  express  rifle,  which 
he  had  brought  from  Europe.  Keyes  had  daubed  both  of 
his  cheeks,  demonstrating  the  fact  that  "blood  is  thicker 
than  water,"  and  that  the  Indian  blood  in  his  veins  had 
cropped  out  in  his  actions. 

(213) 


214         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

On  came  the  Quohada.  These  Indians  had  sneaked  up 
and  stolen  Marshall  Sewall's  life,  and  perhaps  this  same 
sign-rider  was  one  of  the  party.  He  was  nearer  the  canon. 
His  Winchester  rifle  was  in  a  scabbard,  fastened  to  the 
trappings  of  his  saddle.  The  Englishman  fired,  and  he 
fell  from  his  horse.  Al.  Waite  and  I  were  side  by  side 
facing  each  other  at  the  time.  He  whirled  his  horse  and 
started  up,  and  I  with  him.  When  we  got  up  on  the  flat 
the  Indian  was  trying  to  get  upon  his  feet,  and,  his  pony 
having  bolted,  was  running  on  in  the  direction  they  had 
been  going.  We  soon  overtook  him,  but  he  would  dodge 
us,  and  in  a  zigzag  he  would  keep  angling  in  closer  to  the 
breaks  of  the  canon. 

The  two  trail-watchers  whom  Campbell  left  behind 
when  we  came  into  the  canon  now  hurried  on  up  to  have 
a  hand  in  what  was  going  on.  The  four  of  us  finally  caught 
the  pony.  I  was  not  afraid  but  what  Waite  or  I  either 
could  run  ahead  of  him,  but  he  was  an  artful  dodger,  and 
simply  did  not  wish  to  be  caught. 

By  this  time  we  were  over  a  mile  down  the  canon  from 
the  rest  of  the  boys.  When  we  got  back  to  them  they 
had  taken  the  Indian's  body  down  in  the  bottom,  and  left 
it  in  some  tall  reeds  near  a  water-hole,  so  it  would  be  out 
of  sight  for  the  present. 

Keyes  wanted  to  take  the  scalp.  But  some  of  the  boys 
said,  "No,  no,  Louie;  we  will  kill  them,  but  we  must  not 
mutilate  the  bodies." 

Every  field-glass — and  there  were  twelve  in  the  crowd- 
was  now  put  to  use.  Campbell  now  sent  ten  men  ahead 
with  glasses.  He  sent  Jim  Smith  in  charge.  They  were 
to  put  out  guards  above  the  camping-place,  on  both  sides 
of  the  canon,  and  also  below  the  same.  Hosea,  the  Mexi- 
can, went  along  with  them. 


STORY   OF  THE   SOUTHWEST  PLAINS.  216 

At  3  P.  M.  we  were  in  this  quiet  nook,  safely  hidden 
from  pr5dng  eyes.  WTiat  Httle  breeze  there  was  went 
directly  down  the  canon  and  under  the  projecting  bluff. 
It  being  safe  to  do  so,  we  made  a  camp-fire,  cooked  and 
ate.  All  hands  were  ravenously  hungry.  As  soon  as 
one  appetite  was  appeased,  the  man  who  possessed  it 
went  to  the  relief  of  another  man  on  guard,  until  all  had 
been  relieved  from  duty  and  fed. 

Campbell,  Smith  and  Freed  withdrew  from  the  crowd 
a  short  distance  and  held  a  council.  While  they  were 
talking  Bill  Kress  asked  the  question,  which  echo  an- 
swered, "\Vhat  did  Campbell  want  an  advisory  board  for? 
Look  at  him  out  there  planning  the  whole  thing  himself." 
I  did  some  thinking  myself  when  he  had  appointed  the  five, 
Kress  being  one  of  the  number;  but  I  was  charitable 
enough  to  think  that  he  wanted  as  many  of  the  party  as 
possible  to  be  distinguished  by  any  glory  that  might  ac- 
crue from  the  expedition.  The  council  having  ended, 
those  three  came  in  and  Campbell  addressed  us  in  this 
way:  "Now,  boys,  so  far  everything  seems  to  be  going 
right.  We  three,  whom  you  have  chosen  to  lead  you, 
have  the  utmost  confidence  in  your  nerve;  but  it  is  one 
thing  to  talk  about  cleaning  out  a  camp  of  150  or  160 
fighting  Indians  where  they  have  their  women  and  children 
along  with  them,  for  Indians  will  fight  harder  and  better 
then  under  these  circumstances  than  they  will  at  any 
other  time  or  place.  We  have  decided  to  leave  the  wagons 
and  camp  outfit  here.  We  will  be  in  three  divisions,  and 
all  act  in  concert.  I  will  take  one  half  of  the  mounted 
men,  Smith  the  other  half,  and  Freed  here  will  have  com- 
mand of  you  foot  men.  Cook  and  Godey  will  go  with 
Hosea  to-night  and  locate  their  camp.  We  will  follow 
up  the  canon  three  or  four  miles  and  await  their  return. 


216         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

If  they  find  the  camp  they  are  to  get  the  lay  of  the  ground, 
so  that  we  will  know  how  to  place  our  forces  advantage- 
ously, in  order  to  make  an  early-dawn  attack.  Smith 
and  his  men  are  to  charge  through  the  camp  on  a  run, 
passing  on  to  their  pony  herd,  round  it  up,  then  circle 
around  behind  us;  then  if  need  be  he  can  bring  his  men 
to  our  assistance.  And,  boys,  don't  kill  any  women  or 
children  if  you  can  help  it.  After  we  have  done  all  this, 
if  we  do  do  it,  we  will  govern  ourselves  according  to  the 
circumstances  then  surrounding  us.''  He  closed  his  re- 
marks by  saying  that  he  hoped  and  believed  every  man 
would  do  his  whole  duty. 

For  a  moment  there  was  profound  silence,  then  Louie 
Keyes,  the  part  Cherokee  Indian,  said  that  ''it  all  sounded 
well,  but  how  about  that  dead  Indian  down  in  the  tules? 
He  was  a  sign-rider.  He  was  making  a  big  circle  around 
their  camp  to  see  if  he  could  find  any  signs  of  approaching 
enemies.  He  won't  go  to  their  camp  to-night.  That 
will  start  them  to  wondering.  They  will  then  send  scouts 
out  in  every  direction,  and  if  we  are  discovered  the  jig  is 
up;  for  they  will  break  for  the  sand-hills  and  get  away 
from  us." 

"But,"  said  Campbell,  ''that  is  one  of  the  chances  we 
will  have  to  take." 

Thus  everything  was  planned.  Hosea  cut  up  two 
grain-sacks  with  which  he  could  muffle  his  horse's  feet, 
and  he  told  Godey  and  me  to  do  the  same.  We  did  so, 
but  my  horse  got  so  nervous  in  trying  to  put  them  on  him 
that  it  was  deemed  best  to  take  a  quieter  horse,  which  I 
did  for  this  occasion. 

At  good  dark  we  three  started  up  the  canon.  It  was 
thoroughly  understood  that  shortly  after  our  departure 
the  whole  party  was  to  follow  up  about  four  miles,  put 


STORY  OF  THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  217 

out  a  guard,  and  wait  for  our  return.  Each  man  was  to 
take  one  blanket  and  the  boys  were  to  get  what  sleep  they 
could  while  we  were  gone. 

After  the  three  of  us  had  gone  about  five  miles,  we  came 
to  the  forks  of  the  canon,  the  north  prong  coming  from 
near  due  west  and  the  south  prong  from  the  south  by  a 
little  east.  Here  we  all  dismounted.  Godey  held  the 
three  horses  while  the  Mexican  and  I  walked  about  fifty 
yards  up  the  north  prong.  We  were  in  a  beaten  trail 
which  was  made  either  by  buffaloes  or  ponies. 

Hosea  got  down  upon  his  knees  and  after  I  spread  a 
blanket  over  him  he  lit  a  match  from  time  to  time.  He 
did  this  several  times  while  he  was  examining  the  trail. 
He  said  there  were  pony- tracks  in  the  trail,  and  they  were 
coming  down.  We  then  came  back,  passed  Godey,  went 
a  few  steps  up  the  south  fork,  and  did  the  same.  Here 
the  tracks  were  going  up.  We  proceeded  up  the  south 
fork,  riding  very  slowly,  about  a  half-mile,  and  dismounted. 

We  again  repeated  the  match-lighting  as  at  the  mouth 
of  the  canon.  Here  the  sides  of  the  canon  were  sloping 
and  the  breaks  were  lower.  We  proceeded  still  farther, 
and  came  to  a  dead  horse  lying  across  the  well-beaten 
path  over  which  we  were  passing.  Here  I  put  the  blanket 
over  the  guide's  head.  He  lit  a  match  and  examined  the 
trail,  after  which  he  said  in  a  whisper  that  he  and  I  would 
go  on  afoot.  I  told  Godey  what  he  said.  Then  we  went 
ahead. 

We  must  have  gone  fully  a  mile,  when  we  halted  and 
sat  down.     He  whispered,  "Now  let  us  listen." 

After  listening  for  some  little  time  and  hearing  no  unusual 
sound,  he  again  whispered,  saying,  ''There  is  a  long  deep 
water-hole  just  around  the  next  bend  a  little  above  us;'' 
and  there  was  where  he  expected  to  find  the  camp. 


218 


THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 


STORY   OF   THE    SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  219 

Any  one  who  has  attempted  to  crawl  up  close  to  a 
hostile  Indian  camp  on  a  dim,  moonless,  starlit  night  will 
reaUze  the  necessity  of  using  the  utmost  precaution,  and 
can  imagine  to  what  a  tension  the  nerves  are  keyed.  The 
whir  of  a  night-thrush,  the  flutter  of  a  disturbed  bird,  a 
misstep,  a  stumble,  an  involuntary  cough  or  a  sneeze,  or 
anything  that  would  attract  an  alert  ear  which  might  be 
in  close  proximity, — all  these  things  must  be  taken  into 
account;  and  together,  in  a  locahty  that  had  not  been 
seen  in  daylight,  will  produce  a  peculiar  feeling. 

We  went  a  few  steps  farther;  the  path  we  were  on  ran 
close  up  to  the  base  of  the  hill  at  the  bend,  and  we  were 
practically  out  of  the  canon  and  right  at  the  lower  end 
of  the  water-hole  Hosea  spoke  about.  We  remained  here 
as  much  as  five  minutes,  and  could  neither  see  nor  hear 
any  sign  of  the  camp. 

We  were  lying  down,  side  by  side,  trying  to  skylight  the 
surroundings.  The  Mexican  reached  over  and  gripped 
my  shoulder,  arose,  and  then  slowly  started  back  down 
the  canon,  I  following.  We  went  at  a  snail's  gait.  Not 
a  word  was  uttered  until  we  got  back  to  Godey,  when  we 
remounted  our  horses.  The  guide  led  the  way  and  we 
followed  him  up  out  of  the  cafion  to  the  west,  and  when 
well  up  out  on  the  flat  we  halted,  and  Hosea  said  that  he 
was  mistaken  about  the  location  of  the  camp;  that  it 
must  be  on  the  North  Fork  at  some  water-holes  which 
he  could  find. 

I  said , ' '  Well ,  lead  out . "  And  for  an  hour  we  rode  north- 
west and  came  to  the  breaks  of  the  North  Fork,  and  here 
for  an  hour  and  a  half  we  cautiously  reconnoitered,  finding 
the  water-holes  but  no  camp. 

We  watered  our  horses  here. 

The    Mexican    dismounted.     Seating    himself    on    the 


220  the'^border  and  the  buffalo. 

ground,  he  placed  both  hands  over  his  face  and  eyes,  and 
there  he  sat  in  mute  stillness  for  several  minutes.  More 
than  a  year  later  he  told  me  at  Fort  Sill  what  then  passed 
through  his  mind. 

When  he  arose  he  said,  '^Now  I  am  sure  I  can  find  them, 
but  we  can't  do  it  and  get  back  to  the  boys  and  get  them 
there  by  daylight."  He  said  they  were  surely  around  the 
next  bend  in  the  draw  above  the  long  water-hole  we  had 
visited  on  the  South  Fork ;  said  he  could  take  us  all  across 
a  plain  from  where  the  boys  were,  and  get  there  yet  by 
daylight. 

Back  we  went  to  where  the  crowd  was.  They  were 
restless,  and  some  were  grumbling  at  our  long  absence. 
For  it  was  now  near  morning.  The  wind  was  coming  from 
the  south,  and  several  of  the  men  declared  they  could 
smell  a  grease-smoke  which  emitted  from  all  camps,  more 
or  less,  where  much  meat  or  marrow-bones  were  roasted. 
I  said  nothing,  as' I  could  not  smell  a  smoke,  on  account  of 
a  catarrh. 

I  made  a  full  report  of  our  trip,  and  told  them  that  Hosea 
said  if  we  would  move  quickly  we  could  yet  get  there  and 
surprise  them.  Campbell  was  outspoken  in  his  belief 
that  the  Mexican  was  deceiving  us  on  account  of  the  Mex- 
ican meat-hunters  who  frequented  this  region  from  Fort 
Sumner  on  the  Pecos  river,  in  New  Mexico,  and  that  he 
believed  some  of  them  might  be  with  these  same  Indians, 
and  that  Hosea  wished  to  spare  them.  So  Hosea,  faithful 
Hosea,  was  under  a  cloud. 

"Let  us  hurry,"  said  Freed. 

Out  of  the  cavern  we  started ;  across  the  arm  of  the  plain 
we  went.  When  broad  daylight  of  the  18th  day  of  March, 
1877,  came,  we  were  three  miles  from  the  camp  and  a 
hard  fight. 


STORY   OF   THE    SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  221 

Just  as  the  dawn  came,  Hosea  and  I  rode  spiritedly 
ahead.  I  was  now  riding  the  large  nervous  chestnut- 
sorrel  horse.  When  we  were  a  mile  and  a  half  ahead  of  the 
advancing  column  we  saw  two  Indians  riding  leisurely 
toward  their  ponies,  which  were  southeast  of  their  camp. 
They  evidently  had  not  discovered  us.  They  went  out  of 
sight  behind  a  rise  in  the  ground. 

We  could  now  see  a  large  band  of  horses  and  ponies  on 
a  higher  plain  of  land  beyond.  To  our  right  half  a  mile 
were  the  breaks  of  the  head  of  the  canon  the  three  of  us 
were  in  the  night  before.  The  camp  was  straight  ahead ; 
off  less  than  a  mile  and  a  half.  We  could  see  the  tops  of 
several  tepees. 

"To  the  canyone!"  said  the  guide.  "Go!  Hurry! 
Tell  the  men  to  hurry  to  that  white  place!"  (some  white 
chalky  breaks  he  pointed  to). 

I  turned,  let  the  sorrel  out,  and  soon  had  the  boys  on 
the  run  for  the  breaks,  which  we  all  reached  just  as  the  sun 
had  cleared  the  horizon.  We  entered  the  head  of  the  canon 
about  300  yards  below  the  long  water-hole  that  Hosea 
and  I  were  at  the  night  before. 

Campbell  got  all  the  mounted  men  into  line  and  took 
the  fourteen  to  the  right,  as  we  were  faced,  and  Smith  took 
the  left.  We  all  dismounted,  readjusted  and  cinched  sad- 
dles, tied  our  hats  behind  our  saddles,  and  remounted, 
Campbell  filing  his  platoon,  which  I  happened  to  be  in, 
to  the  right  and  up  the  slope  for  the  level  of  the  plain. 
Smith  did  the  same  with  his  men  to  the  left. 

When  we  were  well  on  top,  the  two  mounted  platoons 
were  nearly  200  yards  apart,  and  the  infantry,  as  we  now 
called  it,  were  in  the  draw  between  us,  with  orders  to  stick 
to  the  draw.  Joe  Freed  was  ordered  to  get  his  men  to 
within  200  yards  of  the  camp  as  soon  as  he  could,  and  put 


222         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

them  in  open  skirmish  line,  but  was  not  to  go  into  the  In- 
dian camp. 

When  all  was  supposed  to  be  in  readiness,  Campbell 
called  out,  '^All  right.  Smith;  go  for  them!" 

Just  ^  as  they  started,  Campbell,  being  on  the  extreme 
left  of  our  platoon,  rode  past  in  the  rear  and  said,  ''Boys, 
get  about  five  paces  apart ;  keep  that  way  as  much  as  you 
can,  and  keep  as  good  an  alignment  as  possible." 

When  he  was  well  out  to  the  right  and  about  three  paces 
in  front,  he  gave  the  command,  '^ Forward!" 

Joe  Jackson  was  next  to  me  on  my  right,  Billy  Devins 
next  to  Joe  on  his  right ;  to  my  left  was  Squirrel-eye.  We 
were  now  facing  due  east  and  going  at  a  moderate  trot. 
Louie  Keyes,  on  the  extreme  left,  commenced  the  old  Cher- 
okee war-chant;  his  horse  had  raised  a  gallop.  He  was 
quite  far  out  and  ahead.  That  started  Squirlie  with  his 
old  Rebel  yell ;  and  soon  we  were  all  going  at  a  rapid  gait 
in  an  irregular  line. 

When  we  came  in  sight  of  the  first  row  of  tepees  we  saw 
the  warriors  running  toward  us,  having  poured  out  of 
their  tepees,  coming  on  afoot  as  fast  as  they  could  run. 
We  began  firing.  The  Indians  got  to  the  summit  of  a  little 
rise  between  their  camp  and  us,  and  dropping  down  on 
their  bellies  opened  up  a  rapid  fire  on  us  at  200  yards. 

Campbell,  spurring  his  horse  to  its  utmost  speed,  got 
in  the  lead  of  all,  and  riding  down  the  front  of  the  fine  said, 
"Back  to  the  draw!"  repeating  it  several  times,  but  before 
half  of  us  could  turn  our  horses  Joe  Jackson  fell  from  his 
saddle.  Lee  Grimes's  horse  was  shot  in  the  forehead,  and 
in  falUng  broke  Lee's  left  wrist.  Billy  Devins  dismounted, 
I  following  suit ;  we  both  ran  to  where  Jackson  was,  let- 
ting our  horses  run  back  with  the  rest.     Each  of  us  took 


STORY  OF  THE   SOUTHWEST  PLAINS.  223 

\ 

a  good  strong  hold  of  Jackson  and  Were  dragging  him  back, 
when  Billy's  hold  broke,  he  having  been  hit  in  the  arm. 

"For  God's  sake,  boys,"  said  Jackgon,  ''drop  flat  upon 
the  gromid  or  they  will  get  you  both." 

Lee  Grimes  crawled  like  a^nake  to  where  we  were,  and 
the  three  of  us,  one  shot  in  the  arm,  another  with  a  broken 
wrist,  and  I  unhurt,  lay  in  front  of  Jackson,  and  heard  the 
bullets  passing  over  us,  but  could  not  see  the  Indians  that 
were  shooting  in  our  direction. 

Presently,  off  to  our  front  and  left,  we  saw  as  many  as 
one  hundred  Indians  creeping  up  to  the  crest  of  a  little 
hill  on  the  north  side  of  the  draw,  about  250  yards  from  us, 
and  on  the  opposite  side  of  that  crest  was  Jim  Smith  and  his 
men,  dismounted,  and  firing  On  the  ones  on  our  side  that 
we  could  not  see.  We  all  three  began  shooting  at  the  ones 
we  saw  crawling  up  to  the  crest.  Our  work  soon  proved 
effective,  for  the  rest  of  Campbell's,  platoon,  after  getting 
their  horses  to  cover  and  leaving  two  men  to  hold  and  herd 
them,  crawled  forward  on  the  flat,'  and  getting  sight  of  the 
same  band  we  were  shooting  at  made  the  place  untenable. 

Back  down  the  hill  and  out  of  sight  they  went,  dragging 
six  of  their  number  after  them. 

The  firing  in  our  direction  having  ceased,  we  took  Jack- 
son back  to  where  our  horses  were,  in  a  little  side-draw  of 
the  msdn  stream.  Campbell  brought  the  rest  of  his  men 
back;  and  no  sooner  was  this  done  than  from  the  right 
and  at  the  head  of  this  draw  there  passed  about  twenty 
mounted  Indians  on  the  dead  run,  strung  out  at  intervals 
of  about  six  rods,  shooting  down  the  draw  at  us  as  they 
passed,  and,  circling  to  the  right,  crossed  the  main  draw 
about  200  yards  below  us.  At  the  same  time  another 
party  of  them  were  doing  the  same  thing  from  the  oppo- 
site side,  running  from  near  their  camp  along  the  plain  on 


2: 

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u 


STORY  OF  THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  '  225 

the  north  and  crossing  the  main  draw  a  Httle  closer  to  us 
than  the  ones  that  were  crossing  from  our  side. 

And  for  the  next  three  hours,  if  one  could  have  been  where 
his  vision  could  have  taken  in  the  entire  field  of  operations, 
he  would  have  witnessed  one  of  the  most  spectacular 
dramas  ever  enacted,  the  head  of  Thompson's  canon  being 
the  stage.  Five  of  us  ran  up  the  side-draw  to  near  the 
crest  and  flattened  out.  Six  of  the  boys  ran  northeast 
seventy-five  yards  to  where  the  side-draw  went  off  to  the 
main  ravine;  and  as  the  warriors  came  running  down, 
crossing  the  draw  from  the  north  side,  the  six  men  worked 
their  breech-blocks  lively,  and  fired  rapidly  until  they  had 
all  crossed  the  ravine,  ascended  the  slope  and  passed  out 
of  sight  of  them  onto  the  main  flat. 

Not  all  of  them,  for  one  of  their  number  fell  from  his 
horse  in  the  ravine ;  another  had  his  horse  killed  as  he  as- 
cended the  slope.  As  they  passed  us  that  were  near  the 
head,  of  this  side-draw,  they  were  a  good  200  yards  out 
from  us,  and  we  were  firing  away  at  them  as  they  passed. 
In  this  nm  we  killed  two  horses,  and  their  riders  ran  for  the 
sharp  bend  in  the  draw,  south  of  their  camp. 

Squirrel-eye  rose  up  and  ran  quite  up  onto  the  crest  and 
said,  '^Here,  boys,  here!"  We  all  hurried  up  to  where 
he  was.  He  had  fired  once,  and  was  just  taking  aim  again 
when  we  arrived.  He  was  shooting  at  the  Indian  the  other 
boys  had  killed  the  horse  from  under,  and  who  was  near 
300  yards  off  and  running  for  the  same  draw  in  the  bend. 
The  other  one,  too,  had  now  got  in,  but,  being,  farther 
out  on  the  flat,  was  making  a  detour  to  keep  out  of  the 
range  of  our  long  guns.  He  still  lacked  fully  thirty  rods 
of  getting  to  cover.  We  all  took  a  hand,  and  showered 
lead  all  around  him. 

All  at  once,  he  was  flat  upon  the  ground.     Whether  we 


226         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

hit  him  or  not,  we  never  knew  for  sure.  We  crawled  back 
to  our  position  as  rapidly  as  we  could,  for  we  were  now 
'being  fired  at  from  the  direction  in  which  we  first  ad- 
vanced. We  had  barely  got  in  place  again  when  the 
firing  in  the  direction  of  where  Smith  and  the  infantry 
were  now  together  slackened,  and  for  a  few  moments 
there  were  only  a  few  desultory  shots. 

Then  all  at  once  came  the  sound  of  a  volley  from  the 
main  draw  to  our  left  and  a  little  in  front  of  us.  Then, 
pop!  pop!  a  few  more  shots  and  Smith  at  the  head  of 
his  party  came  leading  their  horses  down  the  main  draw, 
turned  up  the  side-draw  and  joined  our  party. 

We  were  called  in  and  placed  about  a  good  wide  pace 
apart.  Eighteen  of  us  were  ordered  to  crawl  to  the  crest 
and  shoot  at  everything  that  showed  up.  Smith  and 
Campbell  exchanged  a  few  words  when  they  met. 

Campbell  said)  ^^Boys,  we  must  leave  this  place.  Smith 
will  take  horses  and  wounded  men  down  to  the  side  ravine 
that  comes  in  at  the  long  water-hole,  while  we  will  crawl 
up  on  that  crest,  and  fire  a  few  volleys  at  the  camp,  then 
hold  the  position  until  Joe  Freed  and  his  footmen  can  get 
out  of  the  mess  they  are  in." 

When  the  eighteen  of  us  got  to  the  crest  the  Comanche 
camp  was  in  plain  view,  near  400  yards  distant.  There 
was  a. large  band  of  horses  on  the  slope  back  of  it,  and 
fifty  or  sixty  ponies  at  the  camp.  Some  were  packed  and 
others  were  being  packed.  All  this  work  was  being  done 
by  the  squaws  and  children.  OflP  to  the  left  of  the  camp 
was  a  red  flag  on  a  pole.  To  the  right  of  the  camp  was 
an  Indian  manipulating  a  looking-glass.  A  strong  breeze 
had  sprung  up,  blowing  from  the  direction  of  camp  to- 
ward us  down  the  draw.     Estimating  the  distance,  we 


STORY   OF  THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  227 

fired  two  volFeys  at  the  camp,  when  zip!    spat!    whirr! 
came  a  fusillade  round  and  about  us. 

"Let  the  camp  alone  and  mow  the  grass  at  the  crest 
this  side  of  it,"  said  Campbell;  and  in  a  very  short  time 
three  hundred  rounds  of  ammunition  had  been  fired, 
sweeping  the  crest  for  a  hundred  yards  up  and  down  it 
from  where  their  position  then  was.  Then  some  of  the. 
boys  opened  on  the  camp  again  with  deliberate  aim, 
while  special  targets  were  being  picked  out  at  the  camp. 

Freed  and  his  men  came  marching  up  the  side-draw 
that  we  were  on  the  crest  of.  They  were  all  present,  and 
even  jolly.  Poor  Hosea,  who  had  gone  in  with  them,  had 
received  a  painful  wound  in  the  shoulder,  but  was  wear- 
ing a  grin  on  his  face.  Freed  called  to  me  to  come  down. 
Not  having  more  than  sixty  feet  to  go,  I  was  soon  there. 
He  said,  *'Now,  you  find  out  what  the  guide  has  been 
telling  me.  I  can't  understand  him.  In  all  his  talk  he 
keeps  saying  something  about  Apaches." 

Hosea  was  holding  his  right  shoulder  lower  than  the 
other;  had  his  right  arm  in  a  sling.  Smith's  men  were 
now  firing  from  the  side-draw  at  the  long  water-hole. 
The  boys  on  the  crest  were  shooting  pretty  lively,  too. 
Several  of  Freed's  men  were  going  up  the  slope  to  join 
Campbell's  men  on  the  crest. 

I  explained  to  Hosea  what  Freed  wanted  me  to  find  out, 
and  to  my  surprise  he  told  us  that  we  were  fighting  over 
300  Indians;  that  the  camp  around  the  bend,  which  Camp- 
bell's men  had  not  seen  at  all,  were  Staked  Plains  Apaches ; 
and  he  was  sure  there  must  be  200  of  them.  I  called 
Campbell  down  and  told  him  what  the  scout  had  said. 
He  laughed  and  said,  '^  Maybe  we  have  bit  off  more  than 
we  can  chew."  Then,  addressing  himself  to  those  who 
immediately  surrounded  him  and  were  present:  ''Well, 


228         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

boys,  speak  up ;  what  do  you  think  is  best  to  do  ?  Seeing 
what  I  did  at  the  opening  of  this  fight  I  thought  I  was 
taking  my  men  into  needless  slaughter.  That  was  why 
I  fell  back  to  this  place;  and  I  have  felt  badly  about  the 
whole  affair;  for  I  did  not  know  what  effect  our  falling 
back  would  have  on  the  other  two  divisions." 

We  advised  him  to  send  Freed  and  his  men  to  join 
Smith  while  we  kept  up  a  fusillade  toward  the  camp. 

The  Indians  having  ceased  firing,  we  were  sure  they 
were  preparing  some  ruse.  Freed  started,  after  receiving 
instructions  to  rake,  shoot  up  the  main  draw  toward  camp 
when  he  approached  it,  then  pass  on,  join  Smith,  and 
from  the  top  of  the  hill  above  the  long  water-hole  open  up 
a  strong  firing  upon  the  camp.  This  would  give  us  a  chance 
to  join  them  without  being  in  danger  of  a.  rear  attack  or 
rush  from  the  Indians. 

The  plan  was  carried  out,  and  worked  well.  We  were 
all  soon  concentrated,  and  holding  a  good  position  again. 
Smith  informed  us  that  his  men  had  opened  fire  on  about 
fifty  Indians  that  had  ridden  down  the  caiion,  keeping 
about  a  mile  out  on  the  plain. 

Just  then  a  thick  smoke  came  down  toward  us  from 
the  Indian  camp;  and,  just  as  the  smoke  was  nearing  us, 
a  daring  young  Indian,  dressed  in  war-bonnet  and  breech- 
clout,  and  riding  a  white  horse  that  went  like  a  streak, 
dashed  across  the  draw  below  us  not  more  than  200  yards 
away.  He  drew  the  fire  of  half  our  men,  some  shooting 
the  second  and  third  time,  before  his  horse,  which  was  on 
a  dead  run,  fell  and  rolled  over.  Fully  fifty  more  shots 
were  fired  before  this  painted,  war-bonneted  brave  fell. 

Then  up  the  caiion  came  the  party  which  had  passed 
down ;  out  onto  the  plain  they  came  on  a  run,  waving 
shields  and  uttering  their  wild,  demoniac  yell,  once  heard 


STORY   OF  THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  229 

never  to  be  forgotten.  They  were  one-fourth  of  a  mile 
from  us  when  they  suddenly  halted. 

Here  Ben  Jackson  made  his  first  remark  since  the  fight 
began:  "Keep  your  eyes  towards  their  camp,  boys;  them 
fellers  down  in  there  have  done  that  on  purpose  to  draw 
our  fire  so  that  the  main  band  of  warriors  can  make  a 
sneak  on  us  down  the  draw,  through  that  smoke." 

Twas  a  timely  remark.  Sure  enough — here  they  came, 
pouring  over  the  crest  of  the  side-draw  we  had  just  vacated. 
But  the  smoke  was  not  so  thick  as  they  wished  it  to  be. 
For  some  were  seen  and  must  have  been  hit  before  they 
all  got  into  it.  The  grass  they  had  fired  did  not  burn  well, 
and  soon  the  atmosphere  was  again  clear. 

But  the  cunning  warriors  had  tricked  us;  and  it  was 
not  until  nearly  a  month  later  that  we  understood  or 
knew  the  meaning  of  each  of  their  moves  in  the  fight,  and 
the  real  execution  our  buffalo-guns  had  done.  The  party 
of  warriors  down  the  draw  rode  out  upon  the  south  side, 
and,  making  a  wide  detour,  rode  into  the  draw  above 
camp. 

There  was  now  a  complete  lull.  Joe  Jackson,  being 
wounded,  had  a  burning  thirst,  and  began  calling  for 
water.  Not  a  canteen  or  cup  of  any  kind  in  the  crowd. 
I  was  wearing  a  pair  of  new  boots  which  I  had  put  on  the 
day  we  left  Rath's.  It  was  nearly  100  yards  out  in  the 
little  valley  to  where  the  water  was.  Three  different 
ones  had  started  to  crawl  down  to  the  water.  I  was 
really  suffering  from  thirst  myself.  It  was  nearing  noon, 
and  my  head  was  aching  as  if  it  would  burst. 

Ben  Jackson  said,  "Boys,  if  you  will  shoot  pretty  lively 
at  this  edge  of  that  side-draw,  and  up  the  main  draw  a 
little,  Cook  and  I  will  crawl  down  and  bring  up  a  couple 
of  bootfuls  of  water.'' 


230         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

"All  right/'  they  said.  And  as  the  boys  fired  away 
we  crawled  down  and  both  got  a  good  drink  of  water, 
bathed  our  heads,  then,  taking  off  both  of  my  boots  and 
filling  them  with  water,  we  crawled  back,  each  of  us  hold- 
ing a  tight  grip  to  the  top  of  a  boot-leg. 

Joe  Jackson  quenched  his  thirst.  Then  we  gave  Grimes 
and  Hosea  the  rest  of  the  water.  '^  Shorty,"  the  drug- 
gist, had  done  what  he  could,  which  was  not  much,  for 
the  wounded  men,  Jackson  and  Hosea;  but  he  bandaged 
Grimes's  broken  wrist,  and  gave  each  of  them  a  drink  of 
fourth-proof  brandy  from  a  bottle  that  had  been  put 
into  Bill  Kress's  saddle-pockets. 

We  were  in  this  place  nearly  an  hour.  Then  the  three 
cpmmanders  divided  us  into  two  parties,  sending  half  of 
us  on  up  this  side-draw,  with  orders  to  crawl  on  our  all- 
fours  along  the  plain  and  get  opposite  the  mouth  of  the 
draw  that  we  of  Campbell's  men  had  vacated,  and  that 
we  believed  to  be  the  one  the  main  bodies  of  Indians  were 
in.  This  party  was  in  charge  of  Smith.  They  had  been 
gone  from  us  nearly  half  an  hour,  when  their  guns  were 
heard ;  for  the  space  of  four  or  five  minutes  there  was  a 
general  fusillade  from  both  sides. 

At  last  our  boys  drove  them  out  up  the  draw;  and  as 
they  went  up  over  the  crest  going  south  they  came  into 
our  view.  They  were  running  toward  the  sand-hills  four 
milps  away. 

It  was  then  we  opened  fire  upon  them  at  long  range. 
After  firing  four  or  five  times  apiece,  Campbell  selected 
five  men  to  remain  with  the  wounded  men  and  horses. 
Then  he  said,  '^Come  on,  boys ;  let's  regain  our  old  position. 
There  goes  Jim  Smith  and  his  men  across  the  draw." 

On  the  run  we  went,  just  as  fast  as  we  could  go,  and  we 
were  soon  on  the  crest  of  the  side-draw  that  we  first  fell 


STORY   OF   THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  231 

back  to.  The  tepees  that  we  had  had  the  view  of  then 
were  down ;  not  a  sign  of  a  Hving  thing  in  sight. 

"Have  we  licked  them?'' 

"Yes,"  "No/'  would  come  the  answer. 

"Let's  go  into  their  camp  now." 

"No,  don't  do  that;  let's  not  get  too  far  from  those 
wounded  men  and  our  horses." 

"I'm  choking  for  water." 

"I'm  so  hungry  I  could  eat  a  raw  coyote." 

"  Hello,  Shorty ;  where  is  that  war  pony  you  said  you  was 
going  to  ride  back,  as  you  was  walking  up  here  last  night?" 

"Say,  my  dear  Johnny  Bull,  you  are  chock-full  of  sand; 
that  old  blunderbuss  of  yourn  scart  'em  out  of  the  country  I" 

"Shake,  Deacon;  I  Jiaven't  had  time  to  be  sociable  with 
you  to-day;  but  no  offense  was  meant." 

"Pardon  me,  Carr;   but  you  look  worse  than  the  devil." 

And  thus  this  good-natured,  tired,  thirsty,  hungry 
crowd  bandied  one  another  while  Campbell,  Smith  and 
Freed  were  in  council. 

"Back  to  the  wagons,  boys!"  came  the  order.  "Smith, 
you  keep  your  men  here  until  the  rest  of  us  cross  the  main 
draw." 

Away  we  marched.  After  we  had  crossed  the  draw  and 
were  lined  up  facing  toward  the  abandoned  camp,  Smith's 
men  rejoined  us,  and  down  the  draw  we  went  to  the  long 
water-hole,  previously  putting  out  a  guard  on  top  of  the 
plain.  Everybody  drank  a  sufficient  amount  of  water. 
The  horses  were  brought  down  and  watered. 

The  ends  of  a  blanket  were  laced  together  around  two 
pieces  of  lodge-poles,  several  of  which  were  lying  around 
and  near  the  watering-place.  We  made  a  stretcher  for 
Joe  Jackson.  Squirrel-eye,  George  Comett,  Hi  Bicker- 
dyke  and  I  rode  back  and  got  Grimes's  saddle. 


232         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

We  now  all  felt  that  we  were  masters  of  the  field  since 
the  Indians  had  fled.  Then  we  followed  down  the  plain 
and  got  the  war-bonnet  from  the  brave  that  rode  to  his 
death  on  the  snow-white  horse.  Then  we  were  off  for  the 
supply  camp. 

We  got  there  an  hour  before  sundown.  We  unsaddled 
and  turned  our  horses  loose.  No  fear  of  a  raid  for  the 
present.  The  fires  were  built  and  a  hurry-up  supper  pre- 
pared. 

We  opened  two  boxes  of  crackers ;  carved  a  big  cheese ; 
made  two  camp-kettles  full  of  oyster-soup ;  opened'  peach 
cans  by  the  dozen ;  set  out  a  keg  of  pickles ;  opened  a  firkin 
of  oleomargarine;  made  lots  of  strong  coffee;  and  sat 
down  to  a  feast.  We  had  eaten  nothing  since  four  o'clock 
the  day  before. 

After  supper  we  attended  all  three  of  our  worst  woimded 
men  the  best  we  could.  We  probed  Hosea's  wound  through 
the  shoulder;  washed  it  out  clean;  sprinkled  it  with 
iodoform  and  tied  bandages  around  it  as  well  as  we  could ; 
made  splints  for  Grimes's  broken  wrist,  bound  it  up,  and 
kept  water  handy  for  him  to  bathe  it. 

Poor  Joe  Jackson  had  been  hit  in  the  groin,  by  Sewall's 
gun,  which  was  a  45,  just  as  we  tm^ned,  when  we  fell  back 
the  first  time.  The  ball  passed  through,  and  lodged.  He 
was  hauled  in  a  wagon  150  miles,  to  Fort  Griffin,  wheer 
the  post  surgeon  extracted  the  bullet.  But,  poor  fellow, 
after  two  months  of  suffering,  although  in  the  mean  time 
he  got  up  and  went  around  after  his  surgical  work  was 
done,  he  took  a  relapse,  and  died. 

The  next  morning  we  started  back  to  Rath's.  We  ar- 
rived there  on  the  22d  of  the  month.  Just  a  week  later, 
Captain  Lee,  of  G  Company,  Tenth  U.  S.  Cavalry,  with 
five  Tonkawa  Indians  for  guides,  scouts  and  trailers,  and 


STORY  OF  THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  233 

his  seventy-two  colored  troopers,  took  the  field,  under 
orders  from  General  Ord,  who  at  that  time  was  in  command 
of  the  Military  Department  of  Texas,  with  his  headquarters 
at  San  Antonio. 

Captain  Lee's  special  mission  was  to  find  these  Indians 
And  bring  them  in.  From  him  we  learned  all  that  we  did 
not  know  already  in  regard  to  our  fight  with  the  Indians 
on  the  18th  of  March.  It  was  now  believed  that,  for  a 
time  at  least,  we  would  be  safe  by  going  in  small  parties 
to  bring  in  the  hides  from  the  many  camps  in  the  Brazos 
country. 

Kress,  Rees,  Benson,  Moore,  Crawford  and  I  went  in  a 
body  to  our  different  camps  for  the  hides  we  yet  had  on 
the  range.  Rath  sent  freight  teams  to  haul  the  hides 
and  bring  them  in.  The  work  took  nearly, two  weeks' 
time  in  all.  Some  of  the  hunters  went  out  ten  to  twenty 
miles,  selecting  new  camps,  in  hopes  of  getting  a  few  hides 
now  and  then. 

Soon  a  general  carelessness  prevailed.  The  Indians 
swept  over  the  range  again,  coming  to  within  five  miles  of 
Rath's,  killing  three  more  hunters,  destroying  several 
camps,  and  running  off  the  stock. 

Two  days  after  this  last  raid,  Tom  Lumpkins,  having 
returned  to  Rath's,  ran  amuck.  After  making  some 
slighting  remarks  about  our  expedition  against  the  Indians 
and  getting  a  reprimand  from  the  hunter  who  had  loaned 
me  the  sorrel  horse  for  the  campaign,  he  deliberately  drew 
his  pistol  and  shot,  breaking  the  man's  arm  near  the  shoul- 
der. At  the  time  Lumpkins  shot  him,  he  (the  man)  was 
sitting  upon  a  chair,  and  my  partner,  Crawford,  was  cut- 
ting his  hair.    He  was  totally  unarmed. 

This  all  happened  in  the  saloon.  Crawford  stepped  in 
front  of  Lumpkins  and  said,  "What  do  you  mean,  Tom?" 


234         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

'^Get  out  of  the  way,  Crawford;    he  has  insulted  me." 

Just  then  Jim  Smith  pulled  out  his  revolver,  ran  up, 
jerked  Crawford  to  one  side,  and  fired. 

Tom  then  backed  toward  the  door,  shooting  as  he  went, 
Smith  following  him  up. 

As  Lumpkins  came  out  of  the  door  he  turned  to  his  left, 
still  walking  backward  toward  a  wagon  that  John  Godey 
and  I  were  in,  sacking  up  dried  buffalo  tongues.  Smith 
kept  following  him  up,  shooting  as  he  advanced. 

Lumpkins  fell  about  ten  feet  from  the  wagon.  One  of 
the  bullets  from  Smith's  revolver  went  through  the  pine 
wagon-box  and  lodged  in  the  sack  of  dried  tongues.  Godey 
held  the  sack  while  I  put  the  tongues  into  the  sack. 

The  hunter  whose  arm  was  broken  by  Lumpkins,  was 
an  American-born  Swede.  He  was  not  with  us  in  the  fight, 
but  was  enthusiastic  in  his  praise  of  the  manner  in  which 
the  men  conducted  themselves  who  were  there,  and,  being 
a  rather  impulsive  man,  he  quickly  rebuked  the  insult. 

Jim  Smith  had  previously  come  very  near  having  trouble 
on  this  very  same  subject,  with  Lumpkins.  This  being  the 
case,  it  was  apparent  to  all  that  Smith  was  justifiable  in 
what  he  did,  under  existing  circumstances. 

The  wounded  man  and  I  had  met  several  times  during 
the  past  two  and  one-half  years,  and  we  had  become  quite 
intimate.  At  his  special  request  I  took  him  to  Fort 
Griffin,  that  being  the  nearest  place  to  a  doctor  or  surgeon. 
As  we  were  starting  away,  the  boys  were  making  arrange- 
ments to  give  Lumpkins  as  decent  a  burial  as  they  could, 
Smith  saying  that  he  would  defray  all  expenses  of  the  burial. 

Smith  and  several  eye-witnesses  of  the  killing  all  went  to 
Fort  Griffin  also,  where  Smith  surrendered  himself  to  the 
civil  authorities  of  Shackleford  county.  The  record  of  his 
trial  in  April,  1877,  says:    '^Justifiahle  homicide.'' 


STORY  OF  THE   SOUTHWEST  PLAINS.  235 

While  at  Fort  Griffin  we  learned  that  Captain  Lee  had 
found  the  Indians ;  had  captured  their  camp,  together  with 
all  their  women  and  children. 

The  next  day  after  returning  from  Fort  Griffin,  Crawford 
and  I  settled  up  all  our  affairs  in  regard  to  our  partnership 
in  the  hunting  business.  After  everything  was  settled 
satisfactorily  between  us,  he  took  me  aside  and  told  me 
that  "he  never  was  so  anxious  to  get  to  a  peaceful,  quiet, 
steady  plodding  place,  in  his  life."  Said  his  "nerves  were 
not  made  for  startling  commotions."  He  said:  "I  have 
a  mother,  as  I  told  you,  who  is  dependent  upon  me;  I 
have  money  enough  now  to  buy  a  nice  little  place  in  Benton 
county,  Arkansas,  where  I  can  make  an  excellent  living, 
and  make  Mother  as  happy  as  she  ever  could  be."  He 
had  before  this  told  me  of  his  father  being  killed  at  the  siege 
of  Vicksburg,  and  of  their  home  in  Missouri  being  broken 
up  by  the  Federals.  The  ex-Confederates  would  call  us 
"Unionists,"  ringing  the  changes  to  "Yanks." 

After  I  had  heard  him  through  I  took  him  by  the  hand 
and  said:  "Willis,  I  regret  to  part  from  you;  but  am  glad 
you  are  so  solicitous  for  your  mother's  welfare.  Your 
idea  of  a  good  quiet  home  is  an  excellent  one ;  and  from 
this  on  I'll  often  think  of  you  and  imagine  you  contentedly 
situated." 

The  next  day  he  started  with  a  big  hide-train  for  Fort 
Worth.  I  never  met  him  again,  but  we  kept  track  of 
each  other  for  several  years  through  the  mails. 

On  the  25th  of  April  there,  were  some  twenty-five  or 
thirty  of  us  lounging  around  the  store  and  saloon  at  Rath's, 
when  Captain  Lee  rode  into  the  Uttle  place,  bringing  in 
most  of  the  women  and  children  of  Nigger  Horse's  band. 
They  all  camped  close  by  that  night.  This  Captain  Lee 
was  one  of  the  descendants  of  the  famous  "Light  Horse 


236         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

Harry,"  of  Revolutionary  fame,  also  a  relative  of  the 
great  Confederate  general,  ''Marse"  Robert  E.  Lee,  the 
man  who  would  not  allow  Gen.  Grant  to  turn  his  right 
flank.  Capt.  Lee  was  a  tall,  square-shouldered,  well- 
proportioned  man,  of  great  muscular  strength,  having  a 
splendid  voice  and  very  distinct  articulation.  He  was  a 
fluent  talker.  He  ''would  Hke  to  meet  some  of  the  hunters 
who  had  fought  the  Indians  on  the  plains  at  the  head  of 
Thompson's  canon." 

Just  then  Jim  Harvey  approached  him  and  saluted, 
saying,  ''How  do  you  do.  Captain  Lee?" 

"Why,  Jim  Harvey,  old  Fourth  Cavalry,  ha!  ha!  Citi- 
zen Harvey  now?" 

"Yes,  time  expired  at  Fort  Dodge  three  years  ago; 
been  hunting  ever  since." 

"Were  you  at  the  hunters'  fight?" 

"Yes;"  .then  looking  over  the  crowd,  now  all  at  the 
store,  "there  are  about  half  of  the  boys  here  now." 

Then  for  an  hour  or  more  he  entertained  us  with  the 
details  of  his  expedition  and  the  Indians,  and  the  Indians' 
story  of  our  fight.  We  were  sure  we  had  killed  a  dozen 
Indians,  but  were  surprised  to  learn  that  31  had  been 
killed  outright,  and  4  died  the  next  day;  that  22  more 
were  wounded,  and,  when  we  were  shooting  lively  at  the 
camp,  and  the  band  of  horses  beyond,  that  we  had  killed 
15  pack-horses  already  loaded;  and  the  mounted  war- 
riors that  were  running  and  circling  around  us  were  only 
doing  it  to  draw  our  fire  so  that  the  Indians  could  move 
camp  without  all  being  killed..  We  could  now  account 
for  a  good  many  things  that  happened  that  day. 

And  when  we  learned  that  the  sand-hills  to  which  they 
fled  were  honey-combed  with  caves  and  tunnels,  shored 
and  timbered  up  to  keep  them  from  caving  in;   and  that 


238         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

the  Indians  hoped  that  we  would  follow  them  there,  where 
they  could  finally  annihilate  us,  we  thought  our  fight 
with  them  was  a  good  day's  work  for  us. 

And  we  learned,  also,  that  the  Apaches  from  the  Guada- 
lupe Mountains,  west  of  the  Pecos  river,  had  fled  back  to 
their  own  retreat  more  than  100  miles  away;  and  that 
Captain  Lee  had  been  to  our  battle-ground.  Tonkawa 
Johnson  and  his  four  tribesmen  had  trailed  the  Indians 
to  these  sand-hills,  to  find  that  they  had  left  there  after 
the  Apaches  had  abandoned  them,  and  they  had  gone  on 
west  to  Laguna  Plata,  eight  miles  west  of  Casa  Amarilla. 

Then  Captain  Lee  found  them  at  a  time  when  most  of 
the  warriors  were  out  on  raids ;  and  his  first  duty  sergeant 
had  been  killed  by  old  Nigger  Horse  himself.  At  the  same 
time  the  sergeant  killed  both  Nigger  Horse  and  his  squaw, 
as  they  were  trying  to  make  their  escape,  both  mounted 
upon  one  pony;  five  other  warriors  were  killed,  too. 

It  had  been  a  running  fight  for  eight  miles  toward  the 
Blue  sand-hills.  Those  who  got  away  fled  to  them.  He 
had  destroyed  near  three  tons  of  jerked  meat;  had  melted 
nearly  300  pounds  of  bar  lead  and  run  it  into  a  cake  in 
a  hole  in  the  ground.  His  men  carried  fifteen  parts  of 
cans  of  Dupont  powder  up  the  margin  of  the  lake  from 
camp  and  blew  it  up,  for  three  purposes : 

First,  To  keep  it  from  falling  into  the  hand  of  the  exas- 
perated Indian  raiders  when  they  returned  and  found  their 
chief  dead,  and  most  of  their  women  and  children  cap- 
tives. 

Second,  To  show  the  captives  that  the  white  man  had 
plenty  more. 

Third,  Because  he  could  not  well  carry  it  back  to  us. 

The  primers,  some  10,000,  he  brought  back  with  him; 
also  a  map  he  had  made,  showing  where  we  could  find  the 


STORY   OF   THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  239 

cake  of  lead.  The  lead,  powder,  and  primers  had  been 
taken  from  the  different  hmiters'  camps,  by  Indian  raiders, 
when  they  plundered  and  raided  them.  Captain  Lee 
told  us  to  look  for  a  raid  on  this  place  at  any  time ;  com- 
plimented us,  so  far  as  he  was  personally  concerned,  for 
the  manner  in  which  we  had  "ginned  them  up";  hoped 
the  buffaloes  would  soon  be  destroyed  and  the  country 
made  safe  for  the  ranchman  and  home-builder. 

Harvey,  West  and  myself  went  out  to  his  camp  with 
him  near  a  mile.  We  found  the  camp  settled  for  the 
night,  the  captives  on  one  side,  near  one  hundred  feet, 
with  a  strong  guard  around  them ;  then  the  darky  soldiers 
lounging  and  resting.  Tonkawa  Johnson  and  his  friendly 
companions  camped  close  by  Captain  Lee's  quarters, 
which  were  now  ready  for  him;  and  his  cook  was  prepar- 
ing his  evening  meal. 

Harvey  said:  "Captain  Lee,  Tonkawa  Johnson  talks 
fairly  good  English;  speaks  good  Spanish,  and  under- 
stands the  Comanche  language  thoroughly.  We  would 
like  to  get  your  permission  to  have  him  go  with  us  into 
the  captive  camp.  We  want  to  find  out,  if  we  can,  how 
they  Uked  the  Sewall  gim." 

"Yes,  certainly;  go  right  in.  Orderly,  get  Johnson 
and  take  him  into  their  camp  with  these  men."  Harvey 
told  Johnson  what  questions  to  ask.  Lying  upon  an  un- 
tanned  buffalo-hide  was  a  weazen-faced  buck  that  had 
had  his  left  eye  shot  out  in  our  fight  with  them.  Near 
him  was  another  one,  sitting  up,  with  both  arms  broken, 
they  having  been  broken  in  the  fight  with  Lee. 

When  the  talk  which  we  had  with  them,  through  the 
interpreter,  was  ended,  we  had  elicited  many  additional 
facts,  to  those  already  stated,  in  regard  to  our  two  en- 
counters with  them.     The  Sewall  gun  had  been  a  hoodoo 


240         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

to  them.  Everyone  who  had  used  it  had  either  been 
killed  or  been  badly  wounded. 

When  Freed  heard  this  he  was  in  high  glee.  For  he  had 
contended  all  the  time  that  he  had  killed  the  first  Indian 
who  used  the  Sewall  gun  to  shoot  at  the  hunters,  which 
was  in  the  first  encounter  with  them,  in  the  stronghold 
at  the  edge  of  the  Staked  Plains.  The  second  Indian  who 
used  the  gun  was  badly  wounded.  Then  Nigger  Horse's 
son  took  it,  and  it  was  he  that  first  used  it,  at  our  big  fight, 
ss  we  now  called  our  18th  of  March  fight.  And  he  too 
fell  with  the  gun  in  his  hands.  Then  Cinco  Plumas,  or 
Five  Feathers,  used  it  until  near  the  close  of  the  fight, 
when  he  too  fell.  The  Indians  said  they  left  the  Sewall 
gun  in  the  tunneled  sand-hills,  wrapped  up  in  a  blanket 
with  the  two  scalp-locks  they  had  taken  from  Sewall. 
These  superstitious  creatures  imagined  the  gun  and  scalp- 
locks  were  '^bad  medicine"  for  them;  when,  as  a  matter 
of  fact,  each  one  who  used  the  gun  placed  himself  in  an 
exposed  position  in  order  to  do  effective  work  at  long  range. 
And,  not  being  so  well  practiced  in  calculating  distances 
as  the  hunters  were,  they  laid  all  their  misfortunes  to  the 
gun.  We  also  learned  that  the  looking-glass  that  Nigger 
Horse  signaled  with  was  smashed  to  smithereens  by  a 
bullet  from  one  of  our  guns.  A  pappoose  had  been  killed 
which  was  strapped  to  its  mother's  back.  But  this,  of 
course,  was  because  the  pappoose  happened  to  be  where 
it  was  when  the  bullet  passed  along. 

The  next  morning  Captain  Lee  took  up  his  march  to 
Fort  Griffin,  where  he  was  stationed,  and  the  captives 
were  sent  on  to  Fort  Sill. 

On  the  30th  of  April  George  Cornett  came  into  Rath's 
and  reported  that  John  Sharp  had  been  badly  wounded 
the  day  before,  near  Double  Mountain,  and  he  wanted 


STORY   OF   THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  241 

help  to  bring  him  in.  The  Indians  had  plundered  his 
camp,  cut  the  spokes  out  of  his  wagon,  and  run  off  his 
"team.  Louie  Keyes,  Cornett,  Squirrel-eye,  Hi.  Bicker- 
dyke,  Joe  Freed,  Jim  Harvey  and  myself  took  Rath's 
buggy  team  and  went  out  after  him.  I  drove  the  team; 
the  others  were  on  horseback. 

Wc  got  to  where  Sharp  was,  in  a  brush  thicket  below 
his  camp.  We  started  back  with  him  that  night;  came 
on  back  to  the  Double  Mountain  Fork;  stopped  to  feed 
the  horses  and  eat  a  cold  lunch.  We  were  now  four  miles 
from  Rath.  As  the  day-streaks  were  visible  in  the  east 
on  the  morning  of  the  first  of  May,  1877,  we  heard  rapid 
firing  in  the  direction  of  Rath's.  We  hooked  the  team 
to  the  buggy  and  all  started  for  the  place. 

After  going  a  mile  or  so,  Harvxy  thought  it  best  for  some 
one  to  ride  on  rapidly  to  a  high  point  about  a  mile  ahead, 
and  try  to  make  out  what  it  all  meant.  Squirlie,  ever 
ready  and  ever  present,  fairly  flew  up  the  trail,  and  went 
to  the  summit  of  the  high  point  where  Rath's  was  in  plain 
view,  and  much  of  the  surrounding  country  also.  One 
good,  short  look  seemed  to  have  satisfied  him. 
/  Back  he  came  to  us,  on  a  dead  run. 

"Boys,  they  have  tricked  us.  There  are  about  seventy- 
five  Injuns  just  over  the  hill,"  said  he,  as  he  pointed  south. 
'^They  are  going  west  to  beat  h — 1,  driving  over  100  head 
of  horses." 

So,  while  we  hurried  on  east  as  fast  as  we  could  go, 
Keno,  the  0  Z  mare  and  Pinto  were  all  going  west. 

When  we  arrived  at  Rath's  we  met  a  cheap-looking 
crowd.  There  were  about  fifty  men  there,  all  told,  and, 
with  two  exceptions,  all  flat  afoot.  The  Indians  had  made 
a  clean  job  of  this  raid. 

There  were  night-watches  out,  it  was  true.    But  they 


242         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

had  taken  all  the  horses  northeast  in  the  evening,  about 
two  miles,  and  let  them  loose  to  practically  roam  and 
graze  at  will.  The  herders  must  have  been  sound  asleep. 
A  general  carelessness  prevailed.  Only  two  men  were 
on  guard-  at  Rath's.  Camp  wagons  were  scattered  here 
and  there  over  forty  acres  of  ground.  Several  men  were 
sleeping  at  their  camps.  Some  were  sleeping  in  the  store. 
Several  had  their  beds  made  down  in  the  aisles  of  the 
big  hide-ricks. 

The  Indians  were  in  two  parties  of  about  fifty  each. 
One  party  rounded  up  and  secured  the  horses  in  close 
herd  and  drove  them  around  a  half-mile  south  of  the 
store.  The  store  faced  west,  the  saloon  and  restaurant 
east.     The  two  were  a  street's  width  apart. 

Just  as  daylight  was  dawning,  fifty  of  these  reckless 
thieves  made  a  run  between  the  buildings,  shooting  right 
and  left  and  yelling  as  only  Comanches  can  yell.  They 
passed  on  to  the  bunch  of  horses,  struck  west  with  them, 
and  kept  moving.  They  had  not  injured  a  man  in  their 
run  through  camps  and  village.  But,  as  one  of  the  boys 
remarked,  '^They  sure  did  wake  us  up." 

It  was  during  this  same  morning  that  the  organization 
of  what  was  afterwards  known  as  ^^The  Forlorn  Hope" 
was  talked  of.  We  sent  Sharp  on  to  the  hospital  at  Fort 
Griffin,  and  we  put  in  the  day  '^holding  the  empty  sack'^ 
as  the  phrase  went,  and  organized.  There  were  thirty- 
eight  men  present  who  had  lost  all  of  their  horses,  mules, 
and  ponies.  Sam  Carr  was  furious.  Besides  his  two 
large  fine  mules,  ''Prince"  was  gone.  He  talked  nearly 
the  entire  day  about  him ;  and  when  one  of  the  boys 
said,  ''And  you  had  a  fine  mule  team,  Sam,"  he  repKed, 
"Yes,  but  I  can  get  more  mules;  but  I  can  never  get  an- 
other 'Prince.'  " 


STORY   OF   THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  243 

I  am  sure  niy  readers  love  a  noble  horse.  .  And  Prince 
belonged  in  this  category.  He  was  a  dapple-gray  gelding, 
fifteen  and  three-fourths  hands  high ;  was  seven  years  old ; 
weighed  eleven  hundred  pounds.  His  sire  came  from  the 
Bluegrass  region  of  Kentucky  to  near  Topeka,  Kansas, 
where  Prince  was  foaled,  and  owned  by  Samuel  Carr. 
He  grew  up  on  the  Kansas  farm  a  pet. 

Sam  was,  and  had  been,  his  only  trainer;  and  for  per- 
forming many  tricks.  Prince  was  as  perfect  as  horse  could 
be.  At  the  word  of  command  he  would  go  lame,  and 
could  scarcely  hobble  about.  He  would  lie  down  and  ap- 
pear to  be  dead.  He  would  hold  his  head  sidewise  with 
ears  erect,  at  the  command  to  'listen!''  His  master 
would  have  him  lie  down  and  hold  his  head  erect.  Then 
he  would  kneel  on  one  knee,  place  his  gun-muzzle  on  the 
crown  of  Prince's  head  between  his  ears,  and  fire  the  gun, 
and  Prince  would  not  even  "bat"  an  eye.  Carr  would 
tell  him  to  lie  down;  then  he  would  lie  down  beside  him, 
and,  touching  him  on  hip  and  wither,  would  say:  ''Now, 
cuddle  up!"  Then  Prince  would  flatten  out  and  bring 
all  four  of  his  legs  up  against  Carr's  body.  He  was  fleet 
on  foot;  had  great  power  of  endurance,  and  was  an  ex- 
cellent swimmer.  He  would  follow  his  master  anywhere 
he  went,  if  told  to  do  so.  Carr  would  buy  sugar  in  cubes, 
and  nearly  always  kept  a  supply  of  cube  cugar  on  hand  for 
Prince.  I  heard  Carr  say  to  him  once,  ''Oh,  Prince,  I 
found  some  sugar."  The  horse  walked  up  and  ate  it  from 
his  hand. 

Is  it  any  wonder  that  big  tears  came  coursing  down  the 
man's  cheeks  when  he  found  out  his  faithful  horse  was 
gone?  At  first  the  boys  were  inclined  to  joke  him  about 
Prince.  One  of  them  said,  "Well,  Sam,  if  we  don't  get 
him  back  when  we  go  out  after  the  Quohada  again  we  will 


244         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

get  you  a  Dolly- Varden  horse  like  that  buzzard-headed 
pinto  of  Cook's  that  went  off  with  him."  But  when  the 
boys  saw  how  Sam  took  the  loss  of  Prince  so  much  to  heart, 
they  ceased  joking  him. 

After  having  a  general  talk  about  ways  and  means,  and 
nearly  all  being  of  one  mind,  we  all  decided  to  practice 
Indian  for  the  summer,  if  it  took  that  long  to  accomplish 
what  we  now  had  resolved  to  do ;  which  was :  To  take 
wagons  as  far  as  General  McKenzie's  supply  camp  of  the 
74  war;  then  pack  our  supplies,  and  roam  the  Staked 
Plains  until  we  found  the  Indians'  headquarters;  then 
set  them  afoot  as  they  did  us,  and  fight  them  to  a  finish 
if  they  followed  us. 

Accordingly,  we  elected  James  Harvey  to  command 
us,  all  agreeing  to  obey  implicitly,  and  execute  the  com- 
mands given  us.  Dick  Wilkinson  was  made  chief  packer, 
to  have  regular  detailed  assistants.  Sol.  Rees  was  put 
in  charge  of  the  medical  supplies.  I  was  appointed  Hosea's 
interpreter.  He  was  to  select  anyone  he  chose  to  scout 
with  him.  Carr,  Frank  Perry  and  Bill  Kress  were  sent 
to  the  cattle  ranches,  near  Fort  Griffin,  to  purchase  saddle- 
horses  and  pack  animals. 

A  new  campaign  was  inaugurated.  Powder-face  Hudson 
and  three  other  hunters  came  in  that  evening  from  Quinn's. 
The  Indians  had  not  gone  there,  so  they  had  their  horses. 
Hudson  hitched  up  his  team  the  next  morning,  and  the 
three  men  who  were  to  go  after  the  horses  threw  their 
saddles  into  the  wagon.  West  told  them  to  come  into  the 
store  and  get  anything  they  wanted ;  after  which  the  four 
of  them  started  for  the  settlements  near  Griffin. 

The  party  that  took  Sharp  to  the  hospital  returned  the 
fourth  day,  bringing  the  big  chestnut-sorrel  horse  that  I 
rode  in  the  fight  on  the  18th  of  March.     They  also  brought 


STORY   OF  THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  245 

a  letter  from  Oleson,  the  Swede,  who  loaned  him  to  me 
for  the  March  expedition.  He  was  my  horse  now.  I 
wish  I  had  his  letter  to  reproduce  here.  The  horse  was 
given  to  me  as  a  gracious  gift  from  a  man  whom  I  had  be- 
friended and  who  had  learned  that  I  was  afoot. 

When  I  took  him  to  Griffin  after  Lumpkins  had  shot 
him,  we  took  all  his  camp  outfit  and  stock  along.  I  had 
put  a  new  cover  on  his  wagon;  and  got  Mr.  Jackson's 
permission  to  back  the  wagon  against  his  bam  in  the 
corral;  and  had  taken  Oleson's  three  horses  to  a  pasture 
three  miles  down  the  Qear  Fork;  and  I  charged  him 
nothing  from  the  time  I  left  Rath  until  my  return;  and 
so  he  remembered  me  in  my  present  loss  by  making  me  a 
present  of  the  horse. 

Word  now  came  to  us  that  the  entire  border  of  the  settle- 
ments was  on  the  qui  vive,  from  Fort  Concho  to  Henrietta. 
From  North  Concho  to  the  Brazos  there  was  hardly  a 
cattle  ranch  but  had  lost  horses,  the  Indians  having  broken 
up  into  small  parties;  had  stealthily  slipped  in  and  made 
a  simultaneous  raid  for  horses,  taking  them  for  a  hundred 
miles  up  and  down  the  border,  and  had  closed,  for  the 
present,  by  gathering  the  clans  together  and  setting  the 
hunters  afoot  bv  their  raid  on  Rath. 


CHAPTER  X. 

The  Staked  Plains  Horror. — A  Forlorn  Hope. — The  Fate  of  the  Bend- 
ers.— Captain  Nolan  and  His  Troopers. — Quana  Parker. —  Rees 
the  Hero  of  the  Hour. 

When  the  ranchmen  heard  of  our-  predicament,  they 
would  not  sell  us  horses,  but  would  give  every  man  a  mount 
who  had  lost  stock.  Besides  this,  they  wrote  out  and 
presented  us  with  a  ''bill  of  sale"  for  every  horse  we  could 
get  from  the  Indians  bearing  their  brands.  In  addition 
to  all  this,  they  made  us  a  tender  of  money  for  supplies. 

This  they  did  for  a  two-fold  reason :  one  was  their  time- 
honored  generosity;  the  other  was  because  so  long  as 
we  were  roaming  the  Plains,  seeking  the  opportunity 
we  so  much  desired,  we  were  acting  as  a  buffer  between 
the  Indians  and  the  settlements.  For  they  thought  the 
red-skins  would  have  all  they  could  do  to  dodge  us  and 
keep  what  they  had  already  stolen,  without  bothering 
them.  When  we  finally  got  started  there  were  just  twenty- 
four  of  us  in  the  party,  afterward  known  as  the  ''Forlorn 
Hope." 

After  the  supply  camp  was  reached,  we  packed  ten 
head  of  animals  and  we  were  off  to  the  "Yarner,"  as  the 
old  Texans  called  the  Staked  Plains.  Going  to  the  head 
of  White  canon  we  ran  on  to  a  Mexican  meat-hunting 
outfit,  and  through  our  interpreter,  Hosea,  we  told  them 
to  pull  back  to  the  Pecos,  and  for  them  to  get  word  to  all 
the  Mexicans  as  soon  as  they  could,  to  steer  clear  of  the 
Llano  Estacado  during  that  summer.  We  gave  them  to 
understand  that  "a  word  to  the  wise"  should  be  suffi- 
cient.    From  where  we  met  the  Mexicans,  we  went  south 

(246) 


STORY   OF   THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  247 

to  our  old  battle-field.  This  time  we  could  approach  the 
place  in  a  free-and-easy  manner.  Flowers  were  every- 
where in  full  bloom.  There  were  several  different  vari- 
eties; though  none  of  us  were  good  enough  botanists  to 
classify  and  name  them.  But  we  could  smell  the  sweet 
perfume  from  them  and  admire  their  beauty ;  and  for  the 
next  six  weeks,  wherever  we  .roamed,  the  air  was  fragrant 
with  their  sweet  odor.  But  we  did  not  see  ''The  Yellow 
Rose  of  Texas." 

From  here  we  went  to,  and  explored,  the  tunneled  sand- 
hills. There  we  found  the  Sewall  gun,  as  had  been  told 
us. 

We  could  find  no  water  anywhere  in  this  region,  al- 
though we  were  in  three  parties  and  rode  the  country  for 
miles  around. 

This  must  have  been  one  of  their  last-resort  retreats, 
when  closely  pushed  for  a  temporary  refuge.  Some 
thought  this  place  was  where  the  Comanches  and  Apaches 
met  to  exchange  horses  and  stolen  goods;  and  it  was  a 
well-surmised  fact  that  horses  taken  from  the  settlements 
of  Texas  were  exchanged  for  horses  stolen  in  New  Mexico 
or  on  these  plains;  then,  by  the  time  the  Indians  had  re- 
turned to  their  respective  reservations,  each  exchanged 
^  horse  was  a  long  way  from  its  original  home,  and  in  a 
strange  land  was  seldom  ever  regained  by  the  lawful 
owner. 

From  these  sand-hills  we  returned  to  the  battle-ground 
and  made  our  second  night's  camp,  near  the  long  water- 
hole.  From  here  we  went  to  the  Casa  Amarilla  by  way 
of  the  North  Fork  of  the  Thompson  cafion ;  from  here  to 
the  Laguna  Plata,  where  Captain  Lee  had  captured  the 
camp;  thence  marching  south  from  the  sand-hills,  we 
struck  a  trail  crossing  ours  at  a  left-angle,  going  towards 


248         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

the  Laguna  Sabinas,  in  nearly  an  easterly  course.  This 
we  sui-mised  must  be  a  pretty  strong  party  of  Indians. 
Harvey  now  sent  the  pack  train  back  to  the  Casa  Amarilla 
with  Dick  Wilkinson  and  five  men.  The  eighteen  of  us 
now  took  up  the  trail  and  followed  it  till  dark.  We  were 
now  about  fifteen  miles  southeast  of  the  point  to  which 
our  pack  train  had  gone,  all  of  us  as  hungry  as  bears. 

The  trail  we  had  followed  was  another  fool's  trail.  The 
Indians  knew  we  were  in  the  country,  and  they  thought 
to  delay  and  puzxle  us  so  they  would  get  us  as  far  away 
from  their  real  hiding-place  as  possible.  At  one  time  the 
trail  turned  north,  then  northwest,  then  it  would  strike 
out  northeast,  and  we  kept  twisting  around  on  the  trail 
until  darkness  overtook  us.  Harvey  then  told  me  to  tell 
Hosea  to  guide  us  to  the  Casa  Amarilla. 

As  we  were  approaching  the  camp  a  clear  voice  rang  out, 
''Halt!    Who  are  you?" 

''Harvey's  men,"  we  repUed. 

"All  right,  boys;  come  ahead!" 

We  were  camped  on  top  of  the  edge  of  the  bluff  above 
the  natural  and  excavated  caves.  From  our  position 
the  next  morning,  we  had  a  fine  view  through  our  glasses 
to  the  north,  east,  and  south.  Looking  eastward  for  many 
miles,  several  bunches  of  wild  horses  were  in  sight.  Small 
bands  of  buffalo  and  antelope  could  be  seen,  too.  We 
lay  over  here  all  day ;  and  when  darkness  set  in  we  made 
a  twenty-five  mile  march  to  Lake  Sabinas.  No  Indian 
was  there.  Thence  we  marched  to  the  Double  Lakes, 
and  to  the  big  springs  of  the  Colorado ;  thence  we  skirted 
the  edge  of  the  Llano  Estacado  north  to  near  where  Sewall 
was  killed;  thence  back  on  the  Staked  Plains,  visiting 
every  place  where  water  could  be  found  that  we  knew  of 
or  could  find. 


STORY   OF  THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  249 

Three  different  times  we  arrived  at  places  the  Indians 
had  recently  left.  But  they  were  elusive,  and  were  cun- 
ning enough  to  send  us  on  two  fool's  errands. 

Thus  our  time  was  occupied,  marching  and  counter- 
marching from  place  to  place,  until  the  18th  of  July, 
where  we  were  encamped  on  the  head-waters  of  a  tribu- 
tary of  the  Colorado  river,  when  it  was  deemed  best  to 
send  out  three  different  scouting  parties  by  twos. 

Harvey  sent  Al.  Waite  and  me  toward  the  head- waters 
of  the  North  Oncho;  Hosea  and  Sol  Rees  were  sent 
west  toward  the  Blue  sand-hills;  Squirrel-eye  and  George 
Comett  were  ordered  to  make  a  night  ride  in  the  direction 
of  the  Double  Lakes.  Waite  and  I  left  camp  on  the  morn- 
ing of  the  19th,  going  south  along  the  eastern  edge  of  the 
Staked  Plains.  When  we  were  some  four  miles  from 
camp  we  saw  to  our  left,  and  about  two  miles  from  us, 
moving  animals.  Focusing  upon  them  with  our  glasses, 
three  mules  aijd  five  head  of  horses  could  be  plainly  seen. 

"Now,"  said  Waite,  "let's  get  as  close  as  we  can  to 
that  stock  and  see  what  it  means." 

By  turning  east  down  a  sag  we  kept  out  of  sight  of  them. 
We  traveled  nearly  a  mile  when  we  got  a  good-sized  hill 
between  us  and  where  we  had  seea  the  animals.  Then 
we  headed  for  the  hill.  Its  north  side  was  steeply  gullied. 
In  one  of  these  gullies  I  held  the  horses  while  Waite  as- 
cended the  hill  to  get  a  good  searching  view  of  the  sur- 
rounding country.  It  was  about  sixty-five  yards  from 
where  I  was  holding  the  horses  to  where  Waite  was  taking 
his  observations. 

After  he  had  taken  in  the  surroundings  a  short  time, 
he  said:  "John,  fasten  the  horses  and  come  up  here!  I 
see  Prince,  George  Williams's  saddle-horee,  and  Billy 
Devins's  mules,  as  sure  as  the  world!" 


250         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

I  was  soon  on  the  hill  at  his  side,  and  there,  sure  enough, 
not  over  a  quarter  of  a  mile  distant,  was  Prince  and  seven 
other  head  of  stock.  Three  were  mules.  They  seemed 
to  be  contented.  Some  were  grazing,  one  was  lying  down, 
and  the  others  were  standing.  We  both  now  used  our 
glasses,  taking  in  the  dips,  draws  and  points  of  land  far 
and  near.  For  an  hour  or  so  we  talked  and  looked.  Finally 
we  decided  that  the  horses  and  mules  must  have  been  lost 
by  the  Indians,  after  they  had  made  the  raid  on  Rath, 
and  that  they  were  there  alone,  and  no  hostile  camp  near; 
and  that  we  would  get  them  now  and  go  back  to  camp, 
which  we  did. 

We  rode  straight  out  to  them,  after  we  had  remounted 
and  got  out  of  the  gullies.  Al.  had  been  in  the  camp  with 
Prince  all  of  the  fall  and  winter  before.  He  rode  up  to 
them,  while  I  stopped  a  few  rods  back  to  look  for  any 
decoy  that  might  have  been  placed  by  the  Indians. 

He  said  ^^ Hello,  Prince!"  and  rode  quite  up  to  him. 
I  am  sure  the  horse  recognized  him;  for  he  neighed  and 
came  up  to  Waite,  who  circled  around  the  rest  of  the 
stock  and  started  with  them  toward  our  camp. 

After  they  had  been  driven  to  within  a  mile  or  so  of 
camp  we  stopped,  and  went  up  on  a  hill,  whence  we  looked 
the  country  over  good  again.  Then,  before  going  on  to 
camp,  Waite  put  his  saddle  on  Prince.  We  drove  the 
band  into  camp.  Waite  dismounted  a  few  steps  from 
where  the  boys  were.     They  were  all  up  and  expectant. 

Samuel  Carr  was  greatly  rejoiced  at  sight  of  Prince. 
The  mules  belonged  to  the  two  Moore  brothers,  who  were 
known  on  the  range  far  and  near  as  both  hide-  and  meat- 
hunters.  They  dried  tons  and  tons  of  meat  for  a  St. 
Louis  firm.  The  horses  belonged  to  different  hunters. 
All  had  undoubtedly  dropped  out  of  the  big  band  with- 


STORY  OF  THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  251 

out  being  missed  by  the  Indians,  when  taking  them  through 
the  breaks,  on  the  trip  to  the  Plains. 

The  next  morning  Waite  was  ill,  and  Carr  was  sent  with 
me  toward  the  head  of  the  North  Concho.  After  getting 
as  far  south  as  where  we  had  seen  the  stock  from  the  day 
before,  we  turned  due  southwest  and  kept  a  steady  walk- 
ing gait  for  six  hours.  We  came  in  sight  of  a  slightly 
broken  tract  of  ground  about  two  miles  away  and  to  the 
left  of  the  course  we  were  traveling.  We  halted  and 
brought  our  field-glasses  into  use.  We  noticed  antelope 
were  coming  from  the  west  towards  the  breaks.  We 
thought  we  saw,  many  miles  to  the  west,  a  band  of  horses. 
But  the  atmosphere  at  that  time  of  day  was  slightly  hazy ; 
we  could  not  determine  for  sure  what  the  objects  were. 
We  decided  to  reconnoiter  the  country  the  antelope  were 
traveling  toward  first. 

Turning  our  horses  to  the  left,  we  rode  to  the  breaks 
and  came  to  some  sulphur  springs.  There  were  several 
of  them,  and  it  was  a  great  watering-place.  As  we  came 
close  to  them  a  band  of  wild  horses  scented  us  and  went 
in  a  wild,  mad  rush  out  of  the  breaks.  Galloping  out 
upon  the  plains  the  clatter  of  their  hoofs 'made  a  noise 
that  we  could  hear  when  they  were  over  a  mile  frorfi 
us. 

The  big  gray  wolf  was  here  and  the  coyote ;  also  ravens, 
the  blackest  of  black  species  of  the  crow  family.  A  tre- 
mendously large  eagle  soared  above  us  for  a  while,  then 
took  its  flight  toward  the  south  prong  of  the  Colorado. 
Some  of  these  springs  were  strongly  impregnated  with 
sulphur.  Two  of  them  were  splendid  drinking-water. 
We  found  no  sign  of  any  Indians. 

We  felt  comparatively  safe,  but  we  were  ever  vigilant. 
We  were  riding  the  best  of  horses.    Each  one  of  us  car- 


252         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

ried  a  canteen  and  a  six-pound  powder-can  of  water. 
After  watering  our  horses  we  rode  west  about  three  miles 
and  dismounted,  to  graze  the  horses  and  make  some 
coffee  for  ourselves.  After  building  our  fire  of  buffalo- 
chips  we  made  the  coffee,  sat  down  facing  each  other, 
and  placed  our  cooked  meat  and  bread  between  us,  I  facing 
west  and  Carr  east.  After  eating  and  resting  a  while  we 
proceeded  on  west  toward  the  objects  that  we  had  failed 
to  make  out.  It  was  now  about  four  o'clock  in  the  after- 
noon of  the  20th  of  July.  We  were  in  a  region  that  neither 
of  us  had  ever  been  in  before.  We  thought  we  must  be 
west  of  the  head  of  the  North  Concho,  and  yet  a  long 
way  north  of  it. 

The  objects  that  had  attracted  our  attention  were  yet 
a  mystery  to  us,  and  as  we  were  not  satisfied  without 
further  investigation  we  rode  on  west  until  near  sun- 
down. We  had  ascended  a  rise  in  the  plain  where  we  had 
an  excellent  view  for  many  miles  around  iii  all  directions — 
and  there  on  west  and  southwest,  scattered  over  many 
thousands  of  acres  of  land,  were  bands  of  wild  horses. 
They  were  ranging  in  unmolested  freedom  and  in  perfect 
quiet.  No  Indians  near  here,  we  reasoned,  or  these  watch- 
ful, quick-fleeing  animals  would  not  be  so  quietly  and 
contentedly  grazing.  As  evening  came  on,  young  colts 
came  rimning  and  frisking  around  in  reckless  abandon  in 
their  wild  unfettered  freedom.  No  other  wild  animal 
will  run  from  man's  presence,  be  he  white  or  red,  quicker 
than  the  American  wild  horse.  How  did  these  majestic- 
looking  creatures  happen  to  be  in  this  country?  Some 
historians  tell  us  that  their  ancestry  dates  back  to  the 
conquest  of  Mexico  by  the  Spanish  under  Cortez,  who 
brought  the  original  stock  from  old  Spain,  no  horses  being 
in  the  country  prior  to  the  Aztec  rule ;  and  that  from  the 


STORY  OF  THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  .  253 

horses  Cortez  brought  over  the  sea  the  wild  horse  of  the 
old  Southwest  originated. 

There  were  different  methods  by  which  these  wild  ani- 
mals were  captured,  but  one  which  I  witnessed  I  will  de- 
scribe : 

Early  in  the  spring  of  1878,  a  Mexican  outfit  came  from 
San  Miguel,  New  Mexico,  to  the  Laguna  Rica,  bringing 
with  them  twenty  head  of  saddle-horses  and  eight  men, 
for  the  purpose  of  capturing  wild  horses.  He  wanted 
nothing  but  females,  for  breeding  purposes. 

I  was  camped  at  the  Casa  Amarilla,  eight  miles  from 
Laguna  Rica,  where  the  Mexican  found  me  the  next  day 
after  his  arrival.  This  was  a  great  wild-horse  region  at 
the  time.  I  had  noticed  that  morning  an  unusual,  con- 
tinued, rapid  movement  among  all  the  bands  of  wild  horses 
that  were  in  sight,  but  could  not  account  for  it  at  the 
time.  In  the  evening  the  Mexican  rode  into  my  camp. 
His  name  was  Valdez.  He  could  speak  good  English; 
told  me  his  business  in  the  country  and  his  method  of 
securing  the  animals.  He  would  single  out  a  certain 
band  of  the  animals  and  start  two  men  on  horseback  to- 
ward them,  their  horses  walking.  When  they  got  close 
enough  for  the  band  to  scent  or  see  them  the  wild  animals 
would  be  on  the  qui  vivCj  while  the  stallion  that  was  mas- 
ter of  the  herd  would  trot  and  walk  a  short  way  towards 
the  approaching  horsemen,  raise  his  head  high,  and  look 
steadily  at  them.  When  assured  of  danger  he  would 
whirl  around  and  run  back  toward  the  band,  biting  and 
squealing  at  them  until  he  had  them  all  on  the  run ;  then 
he  would  forge  ahead  and  take  the  lead.  Away  they 
would  all  go,  generally  from  three  to  five  miles  without 
stopping.  Then  he  would  come  back  a  way  .on  the  trail, 
acting  as  rear  guard. 


254         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

In  the  mean  time  the  two  horsemen  followed  them  up, 
still  walking  their  horses,  and  when  the  now  vigilant 
stallion  saw  that  they  were  still  coming  he  would  start  his 
band  again.  Wild  horses  always  run  in  a  big  circle ;  hence 
they  would,  on  the  second  run,  go  from  fifteeu  to  twenty 
miles  before  stopping,  but  slowing  down  by  degrees. 
,  When  the  direction  of  the  circle  was  determined,  two 
other  riders  would  start  out  and  cross  an  arc  of  the  circle. 
Another  would  do  the  same  outside  the  circle;  then  one 
man  would  take  two  extra  horses,  hurry  across  the  circle 
and  intercept  the  first  riders  with  fresh  horses  and  a  supply 
of  tortillas,  carne  and  agua  (bread,  meat  and  water). 
Another  would  station  himself,  with  four  extra  horses,  as 
near  to  the  circle  as  caution  and  convenience  would  allow. 

As  the  circle  had  once  been  completed,  the  horsemen 
adjusted  themselves  accordingly.  The  wild  horses  were 
kept  on  the  move  as  much  as  possible,  both  day  and  night. 

The  horsemen  would  drop  in  behind  the  wild  animals 
at  intervals;  but  they  were  always  in  a  walk.  Thus  it 
was  called  ''walking  them  down." 

On  the  third  day  the  very  old  and  weaker  ones  dropped 
out  of  the  circle;  by  the  fourth  day  the  best  of  the  herd 
were  tired  and  leg- weary,  so  much  so  that  the  men  could 
now  close  in  on  them  and  would  have  to  drive  them  to 
keep  them  moving. 

Sometimes  an  enraged  stallion  would  turn  on  the  pur- 
suers and  have  to  be  shot.  The  afternoon  of  the  fourth 
day  on  which  Valdez  and  his  men  had  been  following  a 
mixed  band  of  some  eighty-odd  head  of  these  imtamed 
steeds  of  the  Llano  Estacado,  I  by  previous  arrangement 
joined  in  the  walk-down.  I  did  this  for  curiosity  and 
observation. 

The  band  at  the  time  I  left  my  camp  was  about  six 


STORY   OF   THE    SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  255 

miles  southeast  of  me,  and  was  then  being  driven  by  the 
Mexicans  toward  the  Laguna  Rica.  When  I  got  to  where 
the  horses  were  I  actually  felt  sorry  for  the  poor  captive 
creatures.  Some  would  He  down;  then  the  stinging  raw- 
hide end  of  a  lariat  would  be  snapped  at  them  and  strike 
unerringly  where  the  vaquero  intended  it  to.  Up  they 
would  get,  and  reel  ahead.  It  was  night  when  the  men 
got  them  to  camp,  and  they  kept  those  that  were  not 
literally  fagged  out  on  the  move  nearly  all  night — moving 
backward,  then  forward. 

The  next  morning  the  Mexicans  were  all  on  hand  with' 
lariats.  They  roped  and  threw  the  mares  down.  They 
then  took  a  knife  and  cut  under  each  front  knee-cap.  This 
severed  a  ligament  and  let  the  joint- water  out  at  the  same 
time.  Then  they  would  brand  them  and  turn  them  loose. 
In  this  way  they  got  thirty-five  mares,  from  yearlings  up. 

Using  the  knife  the  way  they  did  stiffened  both  front 
legs.  After  getting  all  they  cared  for  out  of  this  band, 
they  drove  the  ones  they  had  crippled  and  branded  to  the 
margin  of  the  lake;  and  with  one  herder  to  stay  with 
them  they  were  no  trouble  to  handle  afterward. 

In  a  few  days,  after  resting,  regular  water  and  grazing, 
they  were  in  a  condition  to  be  driven  to  the  ranch  in  San 
Miguel.  They  moved  along  as  any  horse  would  that  was 
badly  chest-foundered. 

Coining  back  to  the  time  and  place  Carr  and  I  were  watch- 
ing the  wild  hoi-ses,  and  looking  the  country  over  with  our 
glasses,  we  waited  until  dusk,  and  then  started  back  in 
the  direction  we  had  approached  the  place  from.  Going 
a  mile  or  so,  we  turned  and  traveled  for  an  hour  toward 
the  North  Star,  and  dismounted  for  the  night,  feeling 
sure,  if  we  had  possibly  been  seen  during  the  day  by  In- 
dians, that  we  had  eluded  them. 


256         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

The  day  had  been  excessively  warm.  As  darkness 
spread  its  canopy  over  the  plain,  not  a  breath  of  air  seemed 
to  be  stirring,  and  the  stars  were  shining  brightly.  Un- 
saddling our  horses,  we  placed  the  saddles  cantle  to  cantle 
and  spread  a  blanket  upon  the  ground.  We  could  not  help 
but  note  the  silence.  We  ate  our  lunch,  consisting  of 
cold  meat  and  bread,  drank  water  from  our  canteens, 
and  then  lay  down  for  the  night  upon  our  blankets,  our 
saddles  for  pillows  and  the  firmament  for  a  quilt. 

We  lay  stretched  out  talking  in  a  low  tone  for  hours 
before  we  could  go  to  sleep.  After  our  horses  had  finished 
grazing  both  lay  down  some  fifty  feet  from  us.  When 
our  conservation  had  ceased  for  a  time  the  utmost  still- 
ness and  silence  prevailed.  The  buffaloes  were  nowhere 
in  this  vast  solitude.  We  were  so  far  from  water  that 
even  the  birds  were  not  here,  and  Carr  remarked  that 
the  very  stillness  was  noisy. 

I  said  '^ stillness/'  but  we  could  hear  a  low  murmur  like 
m — m — mum — um — um.  What  caused  this?  Philoso- 
phers have  told  us  that  it  was  the  last  and  least  audible 
sound  coming  from  a  long  distance.  Being  wafted  along 
the  earth's  surface  made  us  imagine  that  we  thought  we 
really  heard  something.  After  some  time,  Carr  asked  me 
how  far  from  the  Bender  place,  in  Kansas,  I  had  formerly 
lived.  After  answering  him,  he  asked  me :  "  Did  you  see 
a  novel  that  is  going  the  rounds  claiming  that  the  Benders 
left  Kansas,  crossed  the  Indian  Territory,  and  were  seen 
somewhere  in  western  Texas  on  their  way  to  Old  Mexico?" 

I  said,  ''No;  but  Al.  Waite  told  me  that  he  had  read 
such  a  story." 

''Yes,"  said  he,  "he  read  it  last  winter,  in  my  camp. 
Now,"  said  he,  "I  don't  think. those  Montgomery  county 
people  did  right  in  misleading  the  public  about  the  Benders." 


STORY   OF   THE    SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  257 

"What  do  you  mean,  Sam?"     I  asked. 

''Well,"  he  said,  "they  killed  all  of  the  Benders  just 
below  the  mouth  of  Onion  creek,  in  Montgomery  county, 
Kansas,  close  to  the  Indian  Territory  line." 
•    I  said,  "Well,  that  is  a  new  one.    What  will  we  hear 
next?" 

"Now,  John,  I'll  tell  you  that  after  the  Independence 
crowd  had  gone  over  to  the  Bender  country,  dragged  the 
creeks,  and  searched  the  country  over  for  Dr.  York's  body, 
and  when  they  started  back  after  their  fruitless  search, 
that  Senator  York  asked  Kate  Bender,  the  pretended 
clairvoyant,  to  go  into  a  trance  and  tell  him  where  his 
brother  was.  She  told  him  there, were  too  many  men  pres- 
ent at  the  time,  but  if  he  would  come  back  the  next  Friday 
night  and  bring  but  one  man  along  she  would  go  into  a 
trance  and  reveal  to  him  where  his  brother  was."  Carr 
continued  by  saying  that  a  member  of  the  party  had  told 
him  that  while  Kate  and  the  Senator  were  talking  he  had 
occasion  to  go  to  the  Bender  stable;  and  while  he  was 
there  he  saw  John  and  the  old  man  Bender  at  the  pig- 
pen and  they  were  engaged  in  an  animated  talk,  in  a  low 
tone  of  voice,  which  talk  was  in  German;  that  the  old 
man  acted  in  an  excited  manner;  and  that  he  then  sus- 
pected that  the  Benders  believed  or  thought  that  they 
were  under  suspicion.  "Now,"  said  Carr,  "that  was 
only  conjecture  by  the  man  that  told  me ;  but,  two  days 
later,  when  this  man  saw  Kate,  John,  the  old  woman 
and  the  old  man  in  that  same  wagon,  drawn  by  that  same 
team,  that  was  found  tied  to  the  blackjack  tree  at  Thayer; 
met  them  in  the  early  morning  eighteen  miles  from  where 
they  committed  their  murders,  and  west  of  the  Verdigris 
river,  going  southwest  with  trunks  and  rolls  of  bedding 
in  the  wagon,  his  suspicions  were  thoroughly  aroused. 


258         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

and  he  put  in  a  good  portion  of  the  day  gathering  a  party 
to  follow  and  overtake  them,  to  bring  them  back  for  a 
full  investigation;  that  fifteen  men  did  follow  and  over- 
took them  about  nine  o'clock  at  night;  that  they  were 
all  more  or  less  intoxicated ;  that  they,  the  Benders,  were 
encamped  by  the  side  of  a  large  sycamore  log  on  the  bank 
of  the  Verdigris  river;  that  when  the  party  told  them 
they  had  come  to  take  them  back,  John  Bender  started 
on  a  run  for  a  brush  thicket  close  by,  when  they  shot  him. 
Kate  grabbed  up  a  butcher-knife,  and,  screaming  like  a 
maniac,  started  to  slashing  at  them,  and  did  give  one  man 
quite  a  bad  gash  in  the  hand.  And  they  had  to  shoot 
her  to  save  themselves.  Then  they  made  a  clean  job  of 
it  and  killed  the  old  man  and  the  old  woman,  after  which 
they  sunk  all  the  dead  bodies  in  the  Verdigris  river ;  then 
they  each  drank  considerable  Uquor;  swore  themselves 
to  secrecy;  searched  the  contents  of  the  wagon;  found 
$800  in  money  in  the  wagon;  $130  was  in  the  old  man's 
pocket,  and  there  was  $30  in  Jtrfin's  pockets.  These  men 
divided  the  money  equally  between  themselves.  They 
burned  up  most  of  the  things  in  the'  wagon ;  then  entered 
into  a  contract  with  one  of  their  party  to  take  the  team 
back  to  Thayer  and  leave  it  where  it  was  found.  As  it 
was  not  their  intention  at  first  to  kill  the  Benders,  they 
each  and  all  entered  into  a  solemn  compact  not  to  divulge 
the  secret.  And  each  having  his  share  of  the  money,  even 
after  the  graves  in  the  Bender  garden  gave  up  their  dead, 
they  thought  best  to  remain  silent  still." 

I  asked  him,  ''When  did  you  hear  all  this?" 
He  repUed:   ''Two  years   ago,   up  in   the   Panhandle. 
The  man  who  told  me  was  drinking  at  the  time.     And 
as  the  old  saying  goes,  little  children  and  drunken  men 
sometimes  tell  the  truth." 


STORY   OF   THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  259 

The  next  morning  he  came  to  me  and  asked  me  not  to 
say  anything  about  it.  I  promised  him  if  I  did  I  would 
not  mention  his  name.  I  asked  him:  '^Did  you  know 
anything  of  the  man  who  told  you  that  story?" 

'^Yes;  his  word  to  me  is  as  good  as  any  man's  on  the 
range;  if  he  had  been  a  man  whose  word  I  doubted  I 
would  tell  you  who  it  was." 

The  above  is  the  story  of  what  became  of  the  Benders, 
as  told  to  me  that  night. 

About  noon  of  the  20th  of  July  our  camp  guard  from 
his  lookout  notified  us  that  he  saw  a  column  of  soldiers 
to  the  southeast,  heading  for  the  Bull  Creek  Mountain. 
Their  course  would  take  them  east  of  where  we  were 
camped.  Han^ey  ordered  James  Foley,  an  ex-regular 
soldier,  to  intercept  them  and  find  out  what  their  mission 
was. 

We  were  now  all  agog.  Every  man  who  had  field- 
glasses  was  up  on  the  lookout.  It  was  a  level  plain,  where 
Foley  had  intercepted  the  soldiers.  We  could  see  the 
column  halt  and  dismount ;  could  plainly  see  two  men  and 
Foley  a  few  steps  in  front  of  the  soldiers.  Soon  we  saw 
them  remount  their  horses.  Then  they  turned,  and 
started  straight  toward  our  camp.  When  they  arrived 
it  proved  to  be  Captain  Nicholas  Nolan  and  Lieutenant 
Charles  Cooper  with  Company  A,  Tenth  U.  S.  Cavalry. 
The  Tenth  was  a  colored  regiment;  the  Indians  called 
them  ''buffano"  (buffalo)  soldiers,  on  account  of  their 
color  being  dark,  like  the  buffaloes.  The  company  went 
into  camp  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  little  branch  from 
us,  and  facing  us.  They  had  a  twenty-mule  pack  train. 
After  their  camp  was  in  order,  and  the  captain  had  eaten 
his  dinner,  he  crossed  the  little  branch  to  our  camp  and 
asked,  ''Who  is  in  command  of  you  hunters?"    James 


260         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO.        ' 

Harvey  stepped  toward  him,  but  before  he  could  speak 
the  Captain  spoke,  saying,  '^Well,  the  saints  deUver  us! 
Jim  Harvey!  And  are  you  with  this  Forlorn  Hope?" 
The  two  men  were  well  acquainted,  having  campaigned 
together  during  the  1868  Indian  war. 

When  the  captain  learned  that  Harvey  was  our  leader, 
he  asked  him  how  many  men  he  had.  After  being  told, 
he  looked  the  crowd  over,  his  eyes  going  from  man  to  nian. 
He  would  look  us  over,  look  us  individually  up  and  down. 
-    ''Where  are  your  other  two  men?    I  see  but  22  here." 

''They  are  out  on  a  scout;  I  keep  two  men  out  all  the 
time,"  said  Harvey. 

The  custom  and  force  of  habit  brought  the  military 
rules  to  the  front,  and  poor  old  Nick  Nolan  forgot  for  the 
moment  that  he  was  in  the  presence  of  twenty-two  Ameri- 
can citizens  that  were  under  no  obligations  to  obey  mili- 
tary orders.  Turning  to  Harvey  he  addressed  him,  say- 
ing: 

"Captain  Harvey,  order  your  men  into  line,  while  I 
read  my  orders  from  General  Ord." 

We  were  standing  and  lounging  in  a  group  all  close  enough 
to  hear  distinctly. 

Harvey  evaded  the  order  by  saying:  "Captain,  the 
men  will  all  pay  strict  attention  to  the  reading  of  the 
orders." 

Captain  Nolan  had  taken  the  orders  from  his  pocket 
and  stood  waiting  a  moment.  Seeing  that  we  made  no 
movement  whatever,  he  said: 

"Oh,  I  see;  that's  all  right,  men;  I  have  been  twenty- 
five  years  in  the  regular  army  and  am  used  to  discipline. 
I  forgot  for  the  instant  that  I  was  in  the  presence  of 
civiUans." 

At  that  we  all  arose  to  our  feet  and  formed  a  semi- 


STORY   OF   THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  261 

circle  near  him.  His  orders  were  in  substance  that  he 
would  ration  his  company  for  a  sixty-day  campaign  and 
proceed  from  Fort  Concho  to  the  region  in  the  Staked 
Plains;  find  the  hostile  renegade  Indians,  and  make  his 
report.  If  possible,  find  the  himters  who  are  out  against 
the  Indians;  render  them  any  assistance  they  may  need 
in  the  way  of  supplies,  medicine,  etc. ;  and  to  form  a  junc- 
tion with  them  if  agreeable  to  them. 

After  reading  his  orders,  he  said: 

''Now,  men,  perhaps  I  have  a  bit  of  news  for  you.  The 
Governor  of  this  State  was  on  the  point  of  sending  the 
frontier  battalion  of  rangers  out  here  to  disperse  you  on 
account  of  your  not  being  a  legalized  body  of  armed  men. 
But  better  counsel  prevailed,  and  from  higher  authority 
than  from  the  State  of  Texas,  you  are  now  recognized  as 
being  within  your  rights.  Congress"  ought  to  pass  a 
memorial  in  your  behalf,  for  you  are  making  future  In- 
dian wars  an  impossibility  by  the  destruction  of  the 
buffaloes ;  and  if  you  will  show  me  those  Indians,  that  is 
all  I  ask.  I  do  not  want  you  to  help  fight  them.  In  fact, 
I  should  prefer  that  you  would  be  merely  spectators,  and 
for  the  following  reason:  Three  years  ago,  north  of  here 
in  the  Red  river  country,  I  was  unfortunate  enough  to  be 
placed  in  a  position  to  have  to  stand  a  court-martial  trial 
for  cowardice ;  and  nothing  but  my  record  during  the  war 
of  our  Rebellion  saved  me  from  disgrace  and  the  loss  of 
my  commission.  Colonel  Shafter  caused  me  my  trouble. 
The  facts  in  my  case  were  that  three  years  ago  I  had  a 
company  of  fresh,  new,  raw  recruits,  just  from  Virginia. 
They  had  never  been  under  fire^  were  not  drilled  in  horse- 
manship, scarcely  knew  the  manual  of  arms,  and  I  could 
npt  get  my  men  to  go  against  Satanta  and  his  warriors, 
which  were  some  four  to  one.     But  now  I  have  a  com- 


262         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

pany  of  fighters.  And  I  wish  to  vindicate  myself  by  going 
against  the  Indians  you  are  hunting.  Captain  Lee  has 
left  Fort  Griffin  under  orders  the  same  as  mine.  Now, 
will  you  agree  to  take  me  to  water  once  every  twenty- 
four  hours,  and  assist  me  to  locate  the  Quohadas?" 

Harvey  told  him  the  story  of  our  travels  in  detail; 
described  all  of  the  watering-places,  and  closed  by  say- 
ing that  we  believed  the  Indians'  headquarters  were  in 
the  Blue  sand-hills,  about  fifty  miles  west  of  the  Double 
Lakes,  and  that  we  would  take  him  to  water  every  twenty- 
four  hours  if  we  could  so  so  without  jeopardizing  our  com- 
mon interest,  which  was  to  find  the  Indians  for  him  and 
to  recover  our  stock  that  they  had  taken.  These  con- 
ditions were  perfectly  understood,  regardless  of  Captain 
Nolan's  report  to  the  Secretary  of  War  afterward. 

I  wish  that  I  could  write  the  story  of  the  happenings  of 
the  next  tew  days,  as  we  all  hoped  and  planned  that  the 
results  might  be.  But  as  this  book  is  written  by  an  actual 
participant  in  the  events  and  incidents  already  related 
and  those  yet  to  come,  I  will  write  them  as  they  occurred 
from  my  personal  observation,  and  from  witnesses  present. 

Early  on  the  morning  of  the  24th,  Hosea  and  Hudson, 
who  had  gone  on  a  scout  the  day  before,  came  in  and  re- 
ported the  finding  of  a  trail  going  from  the  north  prong 
of  the  Colorado  in  the  direction  of  a  chain  of  surface  lakes 
that  were  between  the  Double  Lakes  and  the  Casa  Amarilla. 
There  had  been  a  cloud-burst  in  that  region  the  latter  part 
of  June,  and  so  tremendous  an  amount  of  water  fell  in 
an  amazing  short  time  that  it  had  filled  the  depressions 
to  overflowing,  and  the  waters  had  spread  over  a  large 
area  at  first ;  and  when  we  found  this  place  early  in  July, 
we  could  see  the  outside  water-line  by  the  buffalo-chips 
and  grass-blades  that  made  a  drift-line  around  the  flood 


STORY   OF  THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  263 

margin;  but  absorption  and  evaporation  had  caused  the 
waters  to  recede  until  they  were  confined  in  the  lower 
basins.  One  of  these  yet  had  a  surface  of  about  ten 
acres  when  we  found  it. 

Aft'er  the  scouts  had  reported,  the  captain  ordered  his 
bugler  to  sound  "boots  and  saddles."  We  were  soon 
en  route  for  the  head  of  the  extreme  north  prong  of  the 
Colorado.  Here  we  lay  in  camp  all  of  the  22d.  At  night 
we  marched  to  the  Double  Lakes;  lay  over  next  day  at 
that  place;  and  after  night  we  marched  to  the  chain  of 
surface  lakes,  but  found  no  Indians.  This  day,  the  23d,  we 
lay  over  at  the  largest  of  these  lakes  until  evening,  when 
we  took  up  the  Indian  trail  for  Laguna  Sabinas,  folio W;- 
ing  a  plain  fresh  trail.  This  surface  lake,  whose  waters 
were  from  the  June  waterspout  or  cloud-burst,  now  covered 
a  surface  of  about  five  acres  of  ground.  Lieutenant 
Cooper's  measurement  in  the  center  of  the  basin  showed 
a  depth  of  thirty-three  inches. 

Here  we  witnessed  a  remarkable  sight:  At  one  time 
during  the  day  could  be  seen  horses,  mules,  buffaloes, 
antelopes,  coyotes,  wolves,  a  sand-hill  crane,  negro  soldiers, 
white  men,  our  part-Cherokee  Indian  and  the  Mexican 
guide,  all  drinking  and  bathing  at  one  and  the  same  time 
from  this  lake.  Lieutenant  Cooper  first  called  attention 
to  the  fact ;  and  remarked  that  outside  of  a  tented  circus, 
it  was  one  of  the  greatest  aggregations  of  the  animal 
kingdom  ever  witnessed  on  as  small  a  space  of  land  and 
water. 

One  can  imagine  what  kind  of  water  this  must  have  been 
when  taking  into  account  that  nearly  a  month  previous 
it  had  suddenly  fallen  from  the  clouds  upon  a  dry,  sun- 
parched  soil,  with  a  hard-pan  bottom;  and  being  ex- 
posed to  a  broiling  hot  sun  about  sixteen  hours  of  every 


264         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

twenty-four,  while  the  thermometer  in  midday  was  far 
above  100  degrees  Fahrenheit,  an  occasional  herd  of  buffalo 
standing  and  wallowing  in  it,  the  ever-coming  and  going 
antelope,  the  wolves,  snipes,  curlews,  cranes,  the  wild 
mustang,  all  of  which  frequented  the  place  for  many  miles 
around.  And  yet  we  mixed  bread,  made  coffee,  and 
filled  our  canteens  from  it.  And  yet  again  there  were 
men  in  our  party  who  in  six  more  days,  like  Esau,  would 
have  sold  their  birthright  for  the  privilege  of  drinking 
and  bathing  in  this  same  decoction. 

We  arrived  at  Laguna  Sabinas  at  midnight,  secreting 
ourselves  in  a  gully  at  the  north  end  of  the  lake. 

About  7  A.  M.  we  saw  a  signal-smoke  at  the  south  end 
of  the  lake,  six  miles  away.  We  had  been  seen,  and  their 
spies  were  sending  the  word,  how  far  away  we  knew  not ; 
then  back  toward  the  Double  Lakes  up  went  a  signal. 
We  had  been  deceived  nearly  a  month  before  by  the  high 
ascending  spiral  whirlwinds  that  the  Llano  Estacado  was 
noted  for,  but  these  signs  were  unmistakable. 

'^Indios!  Indios!  yolesveo!''  (Indians!  Indians!  I 
see  them!)  said  Hosea;  and  riding  out  of  a  draw  of  the 
lake  nearly  three  miles  away,  going  east  toward  the  head 
of  the  Red  Fork  of  the  Colorado,  were  thirty-odd  Quohadas. 

At  Captain  Nolan's  command  the  darky  bugler's  blast 
for  boots  and  saddles  sent  its  vibrations  down  the  lake; 
and  away  he  ran  for  his-  horse,  blowing  as  he  ran. 

Harvey  ordered  Carr  and  me  to  get  out  and  keep  in 
sight  of  the  Indians.  We  were  two  miles  from  the  lake 
when  the  troops  .got  in  motion  with  their  pack  train. 
The  Indians  turned  south  when  Carr  and  I  got  within  a 
mile  of  them,  and  away  they  went  as  fast  as  they  could 
go.  Carr  and  I  followed  on  about  two  miles  farther,  and 
looking  back  saw  that  our  party  had  stopped  and  "were 


STORY   OF   THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  265 

signaling  to  us.  We  rode  back  to  learn  that  Nolan  and 
Harry  believed  that  when  the  Indians  turned  south  it 
was  a  ruse,  and  that  they  believed  the  camp  was  on  the 
Red  Fork  of  the  Colorado,  and  there  is  where  we  went, 
Nolan  arguing  that  the  camp  was  trying  to  get  back  to 
Fort  Sill,  being  tired  of  being  hounded  around  by  both  the 
soldiers  and  hunters,  and  that  the  devils  were  trying  to 
mislead'  us  as  to  their  real  intent.  He  said  if  he  was  mis- 
taken, when  we  got  to  the  Colorado  he  would  go  anywhere 
we  said  afterwards.  Hosea  insisted  that  the  Indian  camp 
must  be  in  the  Blue  sand-hills ;  but  we  went  with  Nolan. 

The  next  morning,  the  25th,  about  8  a.  m.,  our  out- 
guards  sent  in  word  that  five  or  six  Indians  were  coming 
straight  for  camp  from  the  south,  bearing  a  white  flag. 
When  they  arrived  at  our  camp  it  proved  to  be  Quinnie  or 
Quana,  a  half-breed  Comanche,  two  oldish  bucks  and  two 
squaws.  Quinnie  handed  Nolan  a  large  official  envelope, 
which  contained  a  commission  from  Gen.  McKenzie, 
post  commander  at  Fort  Sill,  to  Quinnie  to  hunt  up  the 
Indians  and  bring  them  in. 

The  document  was  on  heavy  crisp  paper,  and  was  ad- 
dressed to  whom  it  might  concern.  It  stated  that  the 
Indians  wanted  to  give  themselves  up  to  him  at  Fort  Sill, 
but  they  did  not  want  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  Texas 
authorities.  The  document  cautioned  people  against 
molesting  Quinnie  in  his  mission.  Captain  Nolan  swore 
as  only  a  regular  army  officer  of  those  days  could.  ''  Here," 
he  said,  '*I  had  orders  from  my  department  commander 
to  find  them  blanketed,  breech-clouted  devils,  and  make 
my  own  report;  which  practically  means,  by  reading  be- 
tween the  lines,  to  annihilate  them  if  I  want  to.  Then 
here  comes  a  paper  from  a  garrison  commandant,  dele- 
gating a  half-breed  tribesman  to  come  out  here  and  bring 


THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 


the  renegades  in;  then  winds  up  with  a  covert  threat  if 
they  are  molested." 

Quinnie  passed  on  down  the  edge  of  the  plains,  going 
south,  intimating  that  he  was  going  to  the  Mustang  Springs 
country. 

At  noon  we  saddled  up  and  went  to  the  Double  Lakes, 
northwest,  arriving  there  after  midnight.  Hosea  and 
Cornett  were  sent  on  six  miles  toward  Laguna  Rica,  where 
they  could  have  an  early  morning  observation  of  the 
plains  westward.  Cornett  came  running  into  camp  while 
we  were  eating  breakfast,  saying  they  had  seen  a  large 
band  of  warriors  going  northwest  from  Laguna  Rica,  head- 
ing toward  the  Casa  Amarilla.  Boots  and  saddles  again 
came  the  clear  notes  from  the  bugle ;  and  away  we  went. 

Every  soldier  had  a  canteen;  every  citizen  had  a  can- 
teen or  a  six-pound  powder-can  covered  with  blanketing, 
and  a  strap  to  sling  over  the  shoulder ;  but  the  fact  de- 
veloped that  some  of  these  soldiers  left  this  camp  with 
empty  canteens.  I  myself  came  near  doing  so.  Many 
left  with  partially  filled  canteens.  I  was  ordered  to  hurry 
to  Hosea,  who  was  following  the  Indians,  to  keep  in  good 
field-glass  sight  of  them.  I  was  told  to  have  him  wait 
until  we  all  caught  up  with  him.  When  I  overtook  him 
he  was  three  miles  northwest  of  Laguna  Rica.  The  com- 
mand came  to  us  on  a  cut-off,  missing  the  lake.  It  was 
10  A.  M.  on  the  27th,  and  furiously  hot.  The  soldiers  were 
out  of  water,  and  our  boys  dividing  with  them.  We  fol- 
lowed the  trail  until  the  middle  of  the  afternoon,  when  it 
turned  sharply  to  the  southwest,  and  as  we  followed  it 
along  its  size  increased  by  trails  coming  into  it  from  the 
east  and  southeast.  It  was  now  so  plain  that  it  could  be 
seen  some  distance  ahead.  We  lost  sight  of  the  Indians 
before  the  trail  turned  to  the  southwest.     When  dark- 


STORY   OF  THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  267 

ness  set  in  we  dismounted,  but  made  no  pretensions  for 
camping;  not  a  drop  of  water  in  the  party.  The  horses 
were  not  unsaddled,  neither  were  the  packs  removed. 
At  break  of  day  we  were  following  the  trail ;  at  9  a.  m.  it 
turned  west;  at  noon  it  turned  northwest;  by  3  P.  m.  it 
had  turned  to  the  west.  They  were  giving  us  a  dry  trail ; 
they  would  finish  us  with  thirst.  The  darky  soldiers 
commenced  dropping  out  one  by  one  and  dismounting; 
one  fell  from  his  horse,  and  soon  another;  a  detail  was 
put  behind  to  goad  on  the  stragglers;  the  head  of  the 
column  marched  on,  and  more  soldiers  were  falling  out  of 
line  to  lie  prostrate.  A  stronger  man  was  left  with  each 
prostrate  one;   and  so  it  went  on  until  near  five  o'clock. 

I  was  ahead  on  the  trail  with  Hosea;  we  were  both 
sufiFering  physical  torture.  My  system  rejected  tobacco; 
the  saliva  in  my  throat  and  mouth  had  dried  up;  my 
jaws  would  not  stay  closed.  We  looked  back;  the  column 
was  halted.  A  negro  soldier  was  coming  toward  us;  we 
waited  for  him  to  come  up.  "The  captain  wishes  you  to 
wait  for  the  command,"  he  said.  We  dismounted.  The 
soldier  said  he  was  afraid  some  of  the  troops  would  get 
ugly;  they  were  complaining  bitterly  about  the  thirst 
and  heat.  The  command  came  on,  but  it  was  demoral- 
ized. The  Blue  sand-hills  were  in  plain  view.  We  could 
see  the  outlines  of  them  with  the  scattered  shrubbery 
alo.ng  their  slopes. 

We  had  been  traveling  along  north  of  these  hills  for 
several  miles.  The  trail  was  turning  southwest  again. 
Captain  Nolan  told  me  to  ask  Hosea  if  he  could  find  the 
Laguna  Plata.  Hosea  said  he  could.  Ask  him  when  he 
could  get  back  from  there  by  going  now.  Hosea  studied 
a  moment  and  counted  on  his  fingers.  His  answer  was, 
"midnight."    Then  Hosea  asked  what  the  captain  meant. 


268         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

'^  Captain  Nolan,"  said  Harvey,  ^'I  will  pick  out  ten  of 
my  strongest  men  and  take  all  the  canteens  and  start 
them  for  Laguna  Plata  for  water.  We  will  follow  the 
course  for  there  to-night,  and  they,  returning  with  water, 
will  meet  us  and  end  this  horrible  feeling  that  we  all  have. 
When  the  sun  goes  down  those  prostrate  men  in  the  rear 
will  revive.  I  can  then  get  them  together.  I'll  send  my 
best  horses  with  the  men  and  they  will  bring  us  water 
in  the  night.  Otherwise  we  will  all  perish.  Will  you  send 
the  guide  with  my  men?" 

Harvey  was  resting  in  what  little  shade  his  horse  could 
furnish  him.  He  called  me  to  him.  He  said:  ''What 
do  you  think  of  it?" 

I  said  Hosea  told  me  we  could  get  plenty  of  water  in 
the  sand-hills  not  over  eight  miles  from  here. 

Harvey  straightened  up,  and,  addressing  Nolan,  said: 
''Hosea  has  never  disappointed  us.  He  says  that  eight 
miles  from  here  in  the  sand-hills  is  plenty  of  water.  We 
may  have  to  fight  the  Indians  first  for  it,  but  we  will 
shoot  them  away  from  the  water." 

''Look,"  said  Nolan,  "I  have  twenty-five  men  pros- 
trated. Look  at  your  own  men,  suffering  the  tortures 
of  the  d — d.  We  are  all  suffering  this  minute,  and  if  this 
keeps  up  much  longer  we  will  each  be  dethroned  of  his 
reason,  and  be  a  wandering  lot  of  maniacs  until  a  merciful 
death  relieves  us." 

Tears  were  coursing  down  his  cheeks.  He  was  nearly 
sixty-five  years  of  age,  and  was  ready  for  the  retired  list. 
He  had  crossed  the  plains  to  Utah  in  1857,  being  a  ser- 
geant in  the  First  United  States  Dragoons,  that  were 
sent  to  Salt  Lake  during  the  Mormon  troubles ;  had  been 
in  twenty-two  fights  and  battles  during  the  Rebellion, 
and  had  campaigned  on  the  Indian  frontier  ever  since.     He 


STORY   OF  THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  269 

was  now  too  old  for  such  arduous  duty.  He  captured  our 
sympathy  at  once,  Union  and  Confederate  ex-soldiers 
alike,  and  for  the  fraternal,  soldierly  feeling  we  gave  way, 
and  consented  to  his  plan,  thereby  doing  him  and  ourselves 
an  injustice,  and  adding  more  horrors  to  our  Forlorn  Hope. 

The  soldiers  detailed,  and  were  placed  in  charge  of  a 
mulatto  sergeant,  and  they,  together  with  a  boy,  a  citizen 
of  Boston,  Mass.,  who  was  on  a  visit  to  Fort  Concho  and 
who  had  accompanied  Nolan,  filed  out  toward  the  Laguna 
Plata,  taking  a  northeast  course. 

In  looking  over  my  own  party,  I  missed  Samuel  Carr 
and  Al.  Waite.  Upon  inquiry  I  was  informed  that  Carr 
had  become  prostrated  about  a  mile  back  from  where 
we  were,  and  Waite  was  staying  with  him  until  he  revived. 
Each  soldier  who  had  been  overcome  along  our  trail  had 
been  left  with  a  comrade  to  watch  and  care  for  him. 

As  the  sun  was  sinking,  the  order  to  mount  came.  All 
those  who  could  or  did  obey  the  order  started  toward 
Laguna  Plata,  thus  reversing  the  direction  we  had  traveled 
for  a  long  way,  southwest  to  northeast.  I  rode  back  to 
Carr  and  Waite  and  told  them  of  the  plan  for  the  future, 
and  by  vigorous  fanning  and  coaxing  we  managed  to  get 
him  on  his  horse,  Prince,  which  he  was  now  riding. 

Then  we  started  north  toward  the  command,  cutting 
off  the  angle.  After  going  a  mile  or  so,  Carr  feebly  dis- 
mounted, and  said  he  could  go  no  farther.  He  was  in- 
clined to  stoutness,  and  was  the  only  fleshy  man  in  our 
party.  Waite  and  I  were  slim  ,as  greyhounds.  We 
waited  this  time  fully  an  hour  before  we  could  get  Carr 
on  his  horse  again.  But  this  time  we  came  up  to  where 
the  command  was,  being  the  last  of  the  stragglers  to  come 
in. 

We  were  now  all  together.     Captain  Nolan  was  lying 


270         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

upon  the  ground,  and  said  that  he  was  too  much  ex- 
hausted to  proceed  any  farther  until  he  could  get  some 
sleep.  It  was  every  fellow  for  himself.  We  were  all 
lying  around  on  the  plain,  without  any  semblance  of  order, 
not  even  a  guard  out.  I  was  lying  on  the  eastern  out- 
skirts of  the  entire  party,  where  I  noticed  several  pack- 
mules  pass  me.  I  called  out  to  the  soldiers  that  their 
pack  train  was  wandering  off. 

Men  were  snoring.  Some  were  talking  in  low  tones. 
Jim  Harvey  and  Dick  Wilkinson  were  nearest  to  me. 
My  horse  was  reined  up  so  that  he  could  not  get  his  head 
to  the  ground,  and  I  was  lying  on  the  coil  of  the  lariat, 
the  end  tied  around  the  horse's  neck.  I  fell  asleep,  and 
slept  soundly  until  long  after  midnight,  when  we  were 
awakened  by  the  firing  of  guns.  First  a  shot,  then  pop ! 
pop!  pop!  and  soon  fully  100  shots  had  been  fired.  The 
muzzles  of  the  guns  were  pointed  upward. 

Everyone  was  soon  awake,  and  speculation  was  rife, 
the  prevailing  opinion  being  that  Hosea  and  the  soldiers 
were  returning  with  water  from  the  Laguna.  But  we 
waited  and  waited.  Dick  Wilkinson  was  missing,  and 
did  not  answer  our  call.  It  was  now  the  darkest  part  of 
the  night.  Objects  could  not  be  distinguished  at  100 
feet.  The  sky  was  somewhat  overcast  with  a  film  of 
cloud,  and  all  we  could  do  was  to  await  the  coming  of  day. 

When  daylight  came  on,  and  the  water  party  was  no- 
where in  sight,  Nolan  told  his  lieutenant  to  set  his  com- 
pass for  the  Double  Lakes.  Now  we  knew  that  they 
must  be  at  least  fifty  miles  to  the  southeast.  We  insisted 
that  if  we  kept  on  the  northeast  course  we  would  all  get 
water  that  day.  He  was  lying  on  the  ground  with  a 
talma  over  him,  when  I  said,  ''Yes,  captain,  follow  us 
now  and  we  will  lead  you  to  water." 


STORY   OF  THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  271 

He  threw  the  talma  to  one  side,  and,  getting  upon  his 
feet,  said:  ''If  you  men  are  thinking  of  going  to  the  La- 
gima  Plata,  you  are  going  to  your  destruction.  You  don't 
know  where  it  is,  nor  how  far.  If  it  were  within  my  au- 
thority I  would  prevent  your  going,  only  with  me." 

At  that  we  parted  company — we  hunters  for  the  Laguna 
Plata,  the  soldiers  for  the  Double  Lakes.  We  went  north- 
east, and  they  east  by  south  ten  degrees. 

Jim  Harvey,  Frank  Perry,  and  Williams  had  lost  their 
horses,  as  they  had  wandered  off  during  the  previous  night, 
and  were  nowhere  to  be  seen.  Besides  this,  Dick  Wilker- 
son  had  wandered  away  and  he  could  not  be  seen.  Carr 
had  re\dved  and  seemed  hopeful.  We  all  started,  and  after 
going  about  two  miles,  Benson  said,  ''Boys,  I  would  like 
to  go  and  stay  with  the  soldiers."  And  he  turned  south- 
east and  started  to  rejoin  them.  We  resumed  our  journey, 
and  after  going  a  short  distance  we  halted  again.  Thanks 
to  the  elements,  the  sun  was  obscured,  and  we  thought  we 
would  not  have  to  contend  with  the  oppressive  heat  of  the 
two  preceding  days.  At  this  halt  the  boys  who  were  afoot 
requested  us  to  go  ahead,  and  if  we  found  water  to  return. 
Pint  and  quart  cups  were  the  only  vessels  we  had  to  bring 
the  water  back  in.  We  bade  them  good-by,  promising  to 
return  as  soon  as  possible.  We  saw  Benson  reach  the 
Government  troops,  and  on  we  went,  some  four  miles, 
without  a  stop,  when  the  sun  burst  out  with  its  intense 
heat,  and  we  were  in  a  deplorable  condition.  Our  pack 
train  with  two  exceptions,  had  wandered  off  in  the  night. 

At  this  halt  Rees  said,  "Boys,  we  have  our  medicine 
kit  on  the  black  mule,  and  if  you  will  let  me  have  my  way 
about  it  I  will  help  you  all  go  ahead." 

"We  will  do  anything  to  get  rid  of  this  horrible  feeling," 
said  Squirrel-eye.    At  this  stage  of  our  suffering  our  eyes 


272         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

had  sunken  back  in  their  sockets ;  the  sahva  had  dried  in 
our  mouths  and  throats;  we  were  physically  weak,  and 
rapidly  growing  weaker. 

Rees  opened  the  pack  on  the  black  mule  and  took  from 
it  a  quart  bottle  of  high-proof  brandy.  He  opened  the  bottle 
(we  had  two  of  them),  cut  a  piece  out  of  his  shirt-sleeve, 
saturated  the  rag  with  brandy,  moistened  each  man's  Ups, 
and  had  him  inhale  it  through  his  nostrils.  It  acted  like 
magic  for  a  short  time.  It  inspirited  us,  and,  while  we 
were  in  this  condition,  we  got  over  as  much  ground  as  pos- 
sible until  the  exhausted  feeling  returned  again.  Then 
Rees  repeated  the  operation. 

At  the  halt  where  the  brandy  was  first  used  the  second 
bottle  was  left.  Two  gun- wiping  sticks  were  stuck  in  the 
ground  on  our  trail  that  our  four  footmen  said  they  would 
follow.  A  blanket  was  fastened  to  the  wiping-rods,  and 
Rees  wrote  out  directions  how  to  use  the  bottle  of  brandy, 
adding,  ''For  God's  sake,  boys,  don't  drink  it."  He  left 
another  piece  of  his  shirt-sleeve,  tying  it  and  the  directions 
around  the  neck  of  the  bottle.  About  12  o'clock  we  had 
iised  up  all  the  contents  of  our  bottle,  and  the  heat  was 
more  intense  than  it  had  been  at  any  time  during  that  sum- 
mer. Rees  told  Waite  and  me  to  ride  on  ahead  and  sig- 
nal back  when  we  saw  any  favorable  signs  that  we  were 
nearing  water. 

We  told  the  boys  that  we  would  shoot  four  times  in  quick 
succession  if  we  had  good  news  for  them;  Al.  saying, 
''That  will  be  encouraging;  then  we  will  go  on,  get  a 
drink,  water  our  horses  and  return  to  you  with  the  truth 
that  we  have  found  water  and  that  we  know  where  it  is." 

This  being  understood  and  assented  to,  we  went  on. 
Our  horses,  which  had  been  touchy  and  very  spirited  ani- 
mals, would  barely  raise  a  trot  by  our  using  the  quirt  pretty 


STORY   OF   THE    SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  273 

sharply.  We  kept  moving  steadily.  While  our  party 
would  make  short  moves  and  halt,  some  would  dismount 
and  try  to  get  a  little  shade  from  their  horses. 

About  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  when  we  were 
about  two  miles  in  advance,  I  said,  '^  There,  Al,  are  the 
breaks  of  the  Casa  Amarilla,  straight  ahead  of  us." 
"Yes,"  he  said,  '^I  believe  you  are  right." 
Looking  back  toward  our  party  we  saw  they  had  halted 
and  some  were  yet  back  of  them.  Going  on  a  little  farther, 
to  satisfy  ourselves  that  we  were  nearing  the  Casa  Ama- 
rilla, we  halted  again,  and  looking  again  we  saw  three  men 
leave  the  advance,  going  nearly  east.  I  unfastened  my 
gun  from  the  scabbard  and  fired  the  four  shots.  We  no- 
ticed the  three  men  turn  toward  us,  and  the  others  start 
on.  We  now  rode  on  a  half-mile  or  more,  when  Waite 
said:  "John,  I  have  my  doubts  about  that  being  the  Casa 
country." 


CHAPTER  XI. 

Water  At  Last.— "Yes,  Sah,  Take  Him,  Sah."— Drinking  Horse- 
blood.— They  Had  Given  Up  to  Die.— Rees  said,  "Find  Carr."— 
He  was  Lying  in  the  Shade  of  His  Horse. — It  was  Rees  and  the 
Three  Men. — We  Ignited  Soap-balls. — Twenty  Years  in  Prison. — 
We  are  All  Here. — We  Gathered  Up  Some  Horses. — Last  Great 
Slaughter  of  the  Buffalo. — Our  Kangaroo  Court,  Always  in  Ses- 
sion.—Judge  ("Wild  Bill")  Kress  On  the  Bench. 

"Yes,  Al,  we  are  all  right." 

Soon  we  came  to  where  we  could  see  down  into  the  de- 
pression where  the  briny  salt  lake  was  in  front  and  two 
miles  east  of  the  Casa  Amarilla  proper. 

'^Well,"  said  Al,  "if  my  tongue  was  not  so  thick  I'd 
whistle  and  sing  a  song.''  Turning  his  horse  to  the  left  he 
said,  "Let's  go  this  way  and  strike  the  upper  water-hole." 
I  said  "No."  The  Casa  Amarilla  and  the  upper  water- 
hole  were  less  than  a  mile  apart,  but  I  was  afraid  we  might 
miss  the  upper  one  by  going  too  far  west,  and  we  parted. 
We  were  then  three  miles  from  water.  After  I  had  ridden 
down  from  the  plateau  into  the  basin  and  had  rounded  a 
little  point  ahead,  our  stone. pyramid  and  flag  came  into 
view  on  the  bluff  above  the  spring. 

As  I  rounded  the  point  my  horse  worked  his  ears  and 
gave  vent  to  a  low  whinny.  He  had  scented  the  water, 
and  he  started  into  a  trot,  and  finally  broke  into  a  gallop 
of  his  own  accord.  He  was  a  headstrong  animal,  and 
when  we  were  near  the  water-hole,  which  was  about  twelve 
feet  over,  I  did  not  have  strength  enough  to  stop  him.  He 
surged  into  the  water,  groaning  as  if  he  were  dying.  I  dis- 
mounted in  the  water  to  loosen  the  cinches.     He  had  been 

(274) 


STORY   OF   THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  275 

SO  long  without  water  and  was  so  gaunt,  he  looked  like  a 
wasp.  As  he  got  more  hollow,  from  time  to  time,  I  would 
tighten  the  rear  cinch  to  keep  the  saddle  from  chafing  his 
back. 

Loosening  both  cinches  entirely,  and  taking  off  the  bridle, 
when  I  had  to  jerk  with  what  strength  I  had  to  get  his 
mouth  out  of  the  water,  I  let  him  drink  until  I  thought  he 
should  have  no  more  at  that  time ;  but  I  had  to  strike  him 
over  the  head  with  the  bridle-bits  before  I  could  drive  him 
out  of  and  away  from  the  water. 

As  he  turned  suddenly  the  saddle  fell  off  into  the  water 
and  splashed  water  up  into  my  face.  I  think  no  mortal 
ever  experienced  more  sudden  relief  from  intense  suffering, 
both  in  body  and  mind,  than  I  did  at  that  time.  I  drank 
moderately  of  the  water,  and  bathed  my  face  and  hands. 
The  horse  came  back  into  the  water  and  drank  till  he  was 
tight  as  a  drum.  Then  he  went  out  a  little  way  and  began 
nibbling  the  grass,  what  little  grass  there  was,  near  by, 
when  a  negro  soldier  came  out  of  the  draw  from  the  upper 
water-hole.  He  had  seven  canteens  full  of  water.  He 
was  one  of  the  party  that  had  started  for  the  Laguna 
Plata  the  evening  before,  and  getting  lost  from  the  others 
during  the  night,  his  horse  had  brought  him  to  the  upper 
water-hole,  where  he  arrived  about  noon  that  day. 

He  told  me  there  were  two  other  white  men  at  the  water- 
hole,  or  big  Dripping  Spring  proper.  One  got  there 
a  little  after  he  did,  and  the  other  one  had  just  come.  I 
was  quite  sure  the  last  one  must  be  Al  Waite. 

I  asked  him  if  he  had  heard  the  first  one's  name? 

''Yes;  the  man  who  just  came  called  him  Dick."  So 
that  accounted  for  Dick  Wilkinson. 

I  said  to  the  darky :  "  You  give  me  that  big  U.  S.  horse ; 
I'll  take  those  canteens  and  go  back  on  the  trail." 


276         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

He  said,  '^Yes,  sah!  Take  him,  sah!"  Which  I  would 
have  done  anyway. 

Taking  off  my  belt  and  pointing  to  my  Creedmoor,  I 
said,  ''I'll  take  your  carbine.  Give  me  your  belt,"  which 
he  did.     Then  I  was  immediately  off  on  the  back  track. 

I  had  barely  started  when  I  saw  two  men  approaching 
from  the  salt  lake.  Turning  and  meeting  them,  I  found 
it  was  Rees  and  Foley.  They  had  struck  too  far  east, 
and  were  coming  back.  They  told  me  to  hurry  to  Louie 
Keyes,  Cornett  and  Squirrel-eye.  They  had  given  up  the 
struggle. 

I  hurried  ahead,  and  about  a  mile  and  a  half  from  there 
I  met  John  Mathias  afoot.  I  offered  him  water.  He  said : 
''No,  I  know  where  the  water  is.  Go  on;  hurry  to  the 
other  boys;  Carr  has  wandered  off.  You  get  to  Keyes, 
Cornett,  and  Emery  first.  They  are  east  of  the  route, 
about  two  and  one-half  miles  back." 

Hurrying  on  a  half-mile,  I  met  the  rest,  except  the 
three  or  four  alluded  to.  I  left  three  canteens  of  water 
with  them.  They  said:  "Burn  the  earth,  Cook,  to  reach 
Keyes,  Cornett  and  Squirrel-eye.  You  will  see  their 
horses,  two  of  them,  by  going  this  way,"  they  pointing 
out  the  course. 

I  did  not  take  time  to  hear  all  the  truth,  but  made  my 
horse  fairly  fly,  and  soon  I  was  beside  them.  They  were 
lying  down,  side  by  side,  having  been  very  methodical 
about  it.  They  were  lying  on  their  backs,  facing  the 
east.  They  had  written  their  names  and  had  them  fas- 
tened to  their  saddles.  I  dismounted  and  tied  my  horse 
to  the  neck-rope  of  Cornett's  horse,  which  stood  there, 
a  melancholy  wreck  of  what  I  knew  he  had  been.  Each 
man  had  his  face  covered  with  a  towel. 

Charles  Emery's  horse  had  been  killed  and  its  blood 


STORY   OF  THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  277 

drank  by  the  three  men.  They  had  severed  his  jugular 
vein  and  used  their  tin-cup  in  which  to  catch  the  blood. 
The  dead  horse  was  lying  about  twenty  feet  from  the  men. 
I  got  down  upon  my  knees  at  their  heads  and  lifted  the 
towel  from  Cornett's  face.  His  eyes  were  closed,  appar- 
ently in  death.  Then  I  opened  a  canteen  of  water ;  satu- 
rated one  of  the  towels,  and  began  rubbing  their  faces 
alternately. 

Squirrel-eye  was  in  the  middle,  and  was  the  first  to  re- 
spond. Dried  blood  was  on  their  lips  and  mustaches. 
Their  lower  jaws  had  dropped.  Louie's  tongue  was 
swollen  and  protruding.  It  was  not  death.  They  were 
all  in  a  comatose  condition.  The  first  murmur  came 
from  Emery;  but  it  was  only  a  mutter.  I  opened  all 
their  shirt  collars,  took  off  their  cartridge-belts,  pulled 
off  two  pairs  of  boots  and  took  off  the  other  one's  shoes. 
I  began  to  talk  loudly  to  them.  I  said  anything  and 
everything  I  thought  would  arouse  them. 

Now,  let  the  infidel  laugh;  but,  feeling  my  utter  help- 
lessness, I  said,  ''Oh,  God,  help  me  to  save  these  men's 
lives."  I  dashed  water  in  their  faces  and  on  their  chests. 
I  raised  Keyes  up  to  a  sitting  posture;  but  his  head 
dropped  to  one  side„  and  I  began  to  think  he  was  a 
''goner,"  sure. 

Jast  then  Emery  raised  himself  up  of  his  own  accord 
and  said,  "Where  am  I?"  I  placed  Keyes  back  into  a 
reclining  position,  and,  holding  the  canteen  to  Emery's 
mouth,  said,  "Squirrel-eye,  rfnnA;.'  there  is  lots  of  water; 
we  must  hurry."  I  talked  loudly.  At  the  first  swallow 
he  clutched  the  canteen  with  both  hands,  and  would  have 
drained  it  of  all  the  water  had  I  allowed  him  to  do  so. 
His  consciousness  came  to  him  when  I  said,  "Now,  help 
me  with  the  other  boys." 


278         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

Just  then  Rees  came  to  us,  and  asked:  ''Did  you  find 
Carr?" 

I  said,  ''No,  Sol.;  I've  not  had  time  yet.'' 

Just  then  Cornett  arose  to  his  full  height  and  said,  "Oh! 
God,  how  long  is  this  to  last?" 

Rees  got  him  to  drink  some  water. 

Two  of  the  canteens  were  nearly  exhausted,  when  Rees 
said:  "John,  for  God's  sake  try  to  find  Carr;  my  own 
horse  is  about  done  up  and  that  Government  horse  will 
carry  you  like  the  wind."  I'll  attend  to  the  boys  and  get 
them  to  the  water-hole." 

Anticipating  where  Carr  was  from  what  Mathias  had 
told  me  about  where  he  last  saw  him,  I  rode  west  for 
several  miles  around  the  Casa  Amarilla. 

The  plains  were  wavy  or  slightly  undulating  or  rolUng. 
I  hurried  on.  After  going  some  three  miles  I  saw  to  my 
right,  and  about  one  mile  west  of  the  upper  water-hole, 
a  riderless  horse.  Having  left  my  glasses  on  my  own 
saddle,  that  was  all  I  could  make  out.  I  hurried  on  to 
the  horse,  and  on  near  approach  I  saw  that  it  was  "Prince." 
Carr  was  lying  on  the  shady  side  of  him,  but  the  sun 
was  nearly  down.  I  dismounted,  threw  the  rein  of  the 
horse  I  was  riding  over  the  saddle-horn  on  Prince,  went 
around  to  the  side  Carr  was  on,  and  said  to  him:  "Well, 
you're  making  it  into  camp,  I  see."  I  was  holding  the 
canteen  in  my  hand.  He  raised  himself  up  to  a  sitting 
position  and  said,  "It's  Cook's  voice,  but  I  can't  see  you." 
I  put  one  hand  upon  his  brow  and  the  canteen  to  his  lips, 
when  he,  too,  with  the  first  swallow,  seized  the  canteen 
with  both  hands. 

After  a  good  long  drink,  I  'took  it  from  him,  he  letting 
go  reluctantly.  I  wet  his  head,  washed  his  face,  trickled 
some  water  down  his  neck,  and  gave  him  another  drink 


STORY   OF  THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  279 

from  the  canteen.  I  saturated  Sam's  pocket-handker- 
chief with  the  httle  water  that  remained  and  moistened 
Prince's  nostrils  and  hps  with  it;  then  said:  ''Now,  Sam, 
get  on  your  horse  and  let's  go  to  camp,  for  there  is  lots 
to  do." 

I  helped  him  to  mount  and  got  him  to  the  upper  water- 
hole.  To  my  great  surprise  there  were  our  pack  animals, 
except  the  two  head  we  had  with  us  in  the  morning. 

The  absence  of  Wilkinson  the  night  before  was  now 
accounted  for.  He  had  awakened  before  the  shooting 
in  the  night,  and,  missing  the  pack-mules  and  his  own 
horse,  he  went  out  away  from  the  main  crowd,  and,  lying 
flat  upon  his  belly,  he  skylighted  one  of  the  mules  moving 
off  toward  the  Casa  Amarilla;  and  he  followed,  passed 
by  it  looking  for  more,  until  he  got  to  the  lead  of  all,  ex- 
cept his  own  horse,  which  he  could  not  get  up  to,  nor 
would  his  horse  stop  at  his  call.  Knowing  what  animal 
instinct  was,  and  as  they  were  all  going  the  same  direction, 
one  after  another,  he  waited  until  the  last  one  had  passed 
him,  when  he  followed  in  the  rear.  That  took  him  to  the 
big  Dripping  Spring  at  the  Casa  Amarilla. 

He  had  killed  a  large  buck  antelope,  and  skinned  him 
shot-pouch  fashion.  Turning  the  hide  back  like  a  stock- 
ing, he  had  tight-laced  up  both  ends,  and,  filling  the  hide 
full  of  water  through  the  opening  of'  one  of  the  front  legs, 
closed  it  by  tying  a  rawhide  thong  around  it.  He  got 
forty-two  quarts  of  water.  While  he  was  filling  the  hide, 
Waite  went  down  to  where  I  had  struck  the  water,  and 
finding  Mathias,  Foley,  and  the  darky  soldier  there,  and 
the  rest  of  the  party  except  Rees  and  the  three  men  who 
had  ''thrown  up  the  sponge,"  he  explained  to  them  about 
the  pack  outfit,  and  that  he  and  Dick  would  start  imme- 
diately for  the  relief  of  Harvey  and  those  who  were  with  him. 


280         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

Mathias  and  the  darky  went  back  up  to  the  Dripping 
Springs,  leaving  Poley  to  state  matters  to  the  others  upon 
their  arrival.  It  was  now  dark.  Dick  and  Al.  started 
across  the  country  to  find  the  footmen  if  possible.  I 
rode  down  the  draw  to  the  Casa  water-hole,  where  the 
main  party  had  arrived.  Getting  the  three  cantee^s,  I 
started  for  Rees  and  the  three  other  men. 

Soon  it  began  to  thunder  in  the  southwest.  The  light- 
ning was  flashing  in  the  south  and  west  near  the  horizon. 
After  I  had  gone  some  distance,  it  became  quite  dark. 
Fearing  I  would  miss  finding  the  men,  I  fired  the  carbine. 
I  soon  saw  the  flash  and  heard  the  report  of  a  gun  a  half- 
mile  or  so  to  my  left.  Turning  that  way,  I  would  fire 
now  and  again,  and  get  an  answer. 

It  was  Rees  and  the  three  men,  Rees  walking  and 
Emery  riding  Rees's  horse.  They  were  all  'burning  with 
thirst ;  and  soon  the  four  men  had  drank  the  contents  of 
the  canteens. 

The  deep  rumbling,  muttering  thunder  was  now  almost 
continuous.  The  sky  was  overcast  with  heavy  black 
clouds.  The  vivid,  forked  lightning  was  '^ cavorting" 
high  above  the  horizon.  We  necessarily  moved  very 
slowly  between  lightning  intervals,  on  account  of  the 
inky  darkness. 

On  top  of  the  Casa.  bluff,  at  short  intervals,  a  streak  of 
blaze  would  go  up  thirty  or  forty  feet  high  and  fall  back 
to  the  ground.  ''Soap-balls,"  said  Squirrel-eye,  who  had 
been  raised  in  Texas.  And  so  they  were.  There  was  a 
soap-root  growing  profusely  in  all  this  region,  with  which 
the  Mexicans  washed  their  clothes.  From  the  top  of  its 
stalk  grew  a  round,  fuzzy  ball  about  four  inches  in  di- 
ameter, which  would  ignite  at  the  touch  of  a  burning 
match.     They  were  something  like  the  turpentine  balls, 


STORY   OF   THE    SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  281 

which  the  boys  of  my  generation  used  to  sport  with  on 
Fourth  of  July  nights.  And  this  lurid  blaze  could  be  seen 
for  many  miles  at  night. 

When  we  got  within  speaking  distance  that  well-known 
clarion  voice  of  John  Mathias  told  us  with  vim,  to  ''fol- 
low up  the  draw."  He  added:  "We've  got  a  coon  cook, 
and  he  has  a  supper  ready  of  antelope,  bread  and  coffee." 

Mathias  was  a  man  whose  countenance  had  but  one 
expression.  It  never  changed.  He  always  looked  as  if 
dire  misfortune  had  suddenly  overtaken  him.  Yet  withal 
he  was  the  most  affable,  sociable,  and  humorous  man  in 
our  company.  He  was  always  turning  the  subUme  to 
the  ridiculous.  But  when  others  were  in  distress  he  was 
tender-hearted.  His  help  was  free,  and  he  was  kind  and 
generous.  We  had  no  sooner  reached  camp  when  his 
solicitation  iqr  the  welfare  of  Harvey,  Kress,  Perry,  and 
Williams  cropped  out. 

The  violent  thunder  had  abated,  and  the  air  was  per- 
fectly still,  when  Mathias  said:  ''Now,  boys,  after  you  all 
eat,  let's  all  string  out  from  here  southwest  toward  where 
we  left  the  boys,  those  in  front  with  the  canteens  keeping 
within  speaking  distance  of  one  another,  and  we  will 
throw  up  burning  soap-balls  to  signal  them  in  if  they  are 
on  the  move." 

Some  of  the  men  could  not  eat  at  all.  Those  who  did, 
were  not  ravenoasly  hungry.  It  was  water,  water,  water, 
they  wanted  first.  Leaving  the  darky  soldier  and  Louie 
Keyes,  whose  vitality  was  at  a  low  ebb,  we  all  filed  out  on 
the  yarner,  and  with  two  men  holding  the  four  corners  of  a 
blanket,  to  hold  soap-balls  in,  dark  though  it  was  we  gath- 
ered many  a  one,  over  a  hundred,  by  shuffling  and  scuffling 
our  feet  along  and  around. 

All  the  while  we  were  busily  gathering  them,  one  man 


282         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

would  light  and  toss  the  blazing  ball  as  high  as  he  could 
throw  it,  and  in  the  light  of  a  blazing  ball  as  it  was  ascend- 
ing and  descending,  we  would  see  others  and  skip  toward 
them  by  this  light.  We  kept  from  one  to  as  many  as  five 
soap-balls  in  the  air  at  once.  These  brightly  burning 
blazing  balls  were  fine  night  signals. 

Loud  thunder  and  bright  lightning  could  be  heard  and 
seen,  then  continuous,  deep  roaring  thunder  like  the  sound 
of  artillery  which  was  not  far  distant,  could  be  distinctly 
heard.  Then  to  the  south  and  southwest  we  heard  a  deaf- 
ening and  I  may  say  an  appalling  roar  that  lasted,  it  seemed, 
for  at  least  three  minutes.  The  sound  was  like  the  rushing 
of  a  mighty  torrent. 

When  it  ceased  the  stillness  of  the  tomb  prevailed  for 
a  while.    We  all  returned  to  camp,  and  to  sleep. 

Not  a  drop  of  rain  fell  where  we  were.  But  the  next 
morning  when  the  second  relief  party  went  out  they  found 
the  earth  deluged  six  miles  south  of  our  camp,  and  rode 
through  one  basin  where  the  water  was  belly-deep  to  their 
horses.  They  said  the  rain  strip  was  two  miles  wide ;  and 
one  mile  south  of  it  they  found  our  boys ;  Waite  and  Wil- 
kinson had  found  them  early  in  the  morning.  They  had 
traveled  on  about  seven  miles  after  they  had  found  the 
bottle  of  brandy,  and  they  were  in  earnest  when  they  de- 
clared that  had  it  not  been  for  that  stimulant  they  would 
have  succumbed. 

Another  thing  helped  them :  they  held  a  bullet  in  their 
mouths,  which  caused  the  saliva  to  flow,  which  kept  the 
mouth  moist  and  they  did  not  experience  that  dry,  hot, 
hacking  sensation  in  their  throats  that  we  did. 

But  when  found  they  were  very  weak.  Hudson  was  de- 
lirious. On  the  evening  of  the  30th  of  July  they  arrived 
in  camp,  where  we  remained  three  days  resting  and  recu- 


STORY  OF  THE   SOUTHWEST  PLAINS.  283 

perating  from  this  disaster.    Benson  was  the  only  man  of 
our  party  not  present. 

Hosea  and  the  negro  soldiers  that  went  with  him  to 
Laguna  Plata,  with  the  exception  of  the  colored  soldier 
with  us,  found  the  lake  near  morning  of  the  29th. 

At  this  lake  occurred  an  act  on  the  part  of  the  mulatto 
sergeant  which  was  a  disgrace  to  manhood,  and  purchased 
the  sergeant  a  home  in  the  military  prison  at  Fort  Leaven- 
worth, Kansas,  for  a  period  of  twenty  years  at  hard  labor, 
when  he  should  have  been  shot,  as  Mathias  said,  with  all  the 
buffalo-guns  on  the  range.  This  sergeant  refused  to  go 
back  to  the  relief  of  his  officers  and  comrades,  and  ordered 
his  squad  not  to  return.  But  one  did  disobey  him,  and  fol- 
lowed Hosea  with  forty-four  canteens  full  of  water,  and 
they  struck  the  back  track. 

Faithful  Hosea  returned  to  where  he  found  the  previous 
night's  halt ;  found  that  the  soldiers  had  taken  one  course, 
we  another.  He  followed  the  soldiers  until  he  felt  assured 
they  would  get  to  the  Double  Lakes  or  Laguna  Sabinas. 
He  thought  they  could  not  miss  both,  as  they  were  nearly 
in  sight  of  them  then.  Hosea  turned  and  crossed  that 
thirty  miles  of  trackless  waste  to  the  Casa  Amarilla,  and 
found  us  the  morning  of  the  31st. 

The  sergeant  and  his  men  put  back  to  Fort  Goncho ;  and 
we  hunters  went  east  to  our  old  battle-ground  at  the  head 
of  Thompson's  canon,  where  we  found  Benson,  who  had 
left  the  soldiers,  after  traveling  half  the  day  of  the  29th, 
and  when  night  came  on  he  lost  his  horse  and  had  walked 
the  rest  of  the  way,  he  being  ninety-six  hours  without  wa- 
ter. When  we  came  to  where  he  was  he  was  as  crazy  as  a 
bug.  It  was  three  weeks  before  his  mind  was  thoroughly 
restored. 

Here  we  found  our  missing  pack-mules.    Now  we  were 


284         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

all  together,  not  losing  a  man,  after  undergoing  one  of  the 
most  horrifying  experiences  that  ever  fell  to  mortals'  lot 
on  land.  We  read  of  horrors  of  the  sea,  where  castaways 
resorted  to  cannibalism  when  they  became  frenzied,  where 
seemingly  there  was  nothing  else  could  be  done  and  hve. 
But  here  in  this  great  "Lone  Star  State,"  with  water  all 
around  us,  was  a  party  of  strong  men  who  became  demor- 
alized by  thirst,  which,  together  with  intense  heat,  will 
weaken  the  body  and  impair  the  mental  faculties  far  quicker 
than  hunger  or  any  other  calamity  that  can  happen  to  man. 

The  soldiers  first  found  Laguna  Rica,  then  the  Double 
Lakes,  where  Captain  Lee  was  encamped  at  the  time; 
but  in  covering  the  vast  distance  from  where  they  left  us 
they  had  killed  and  drank  the  blood  from  twenty-two  of 
their  horses ;  and  yet  five  of  them  died  on  the  route.  So 
Lieutenant  Ward  told  us  when  he  went  out  from  Fort 
Concho  afterward,  with  a  part  of  his  company,  and  buried 
the  dead. 

For  twenty  miles  this  route  was  strewn  with  carbines, 
cartridge-belts,  blankets,  hats,  blouses,  pants,  and  cook- 
ing utensils,  dead  horses  and  mules,  so  that  one  object  or 
a  number  of  objects  could  be  seen  from  one  to  another. 

With  those  two  officers  and  their  colored  soldiers  was 
big  raw-boned  Barney  Howard,  black  as  a  crow,  and  as 
kinky-wooled  as  his  Congo  Basin  progenitors.  He  was  the 
true  hero  of  the  occasion.  After  his  own  horse  had  been 
sacrificed,  he  said  to  the  officers  and  men,  "It  would  take 
worser  dan  dis  for  me  to  drap."  And  when  Lieutenant 
Cooper  handed  him  his  watch  and  money  that  he  had  with 
him  he  asked  Barney  to  give  them  to  his  (Cooper's)  wife, 
if  he  (Barney)  got  through.  Barney  tied  them  up  in  the 
silk  handkerchief  that  Mrs.  Cooper  had  monogrammed, 
and  said: 


STORY   OF   THE    SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  285 

"I'll  carry  dese  for  you,  sah,  till  we  git  to  watah,  for 
you  isn't  gwine  to  peter  out  and  worry  dat  pooh  little 
black-eyed  woman,  is  you?  No,  sah,  dat  talk  am  all 
nonsense." 

He  threw  military  discipline  aside  and  told  Captain 
Nolan  he  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  himself  to  set  a  whining 
patten  (pattern)  befo'  his  men.  He  would  walk  around 
among  his  weak,  discouraged  comrades,  and  tell  them  of 
the  good  things  in  store  for  them  in  the  future.  I  had  a 
long  talk  with  this  ebony-colored  child  of  Ham,  afterward, 
at  Fort  Concho.  He  was  cut  out  for  a  regular,  and  it  is 
but  fair  to  presume  that  he  climbed  the  San  Juan  hill, 
doing  his  duty  in  his  capacity  equally  as  well  as  Theodore 
Roosevelt  did  in  his. 

After  recuperating,  the  soldiers  went  to  Concho,  and 
Captain  Lee  back  to  Fort  Griffin. 

What  about  the  Indians? 

That  is  another  story,  part  of  which  was  a  revelation  to 
us.  They  knew  where  we  hunters  were  from  day  to  day, 
and  through  an  interpreter  at  Fort  Sill,  the  next  June,  I 
listened  to  Cuatro  Plumas's  (Four  Feathers)  statement, 
He  was  bom  at  the  Big  Springs  of  the  Colorado. 

They  knew  that  Quinnie  was  coming  to  them.  He  was 
bom  at  the  south  end  of  Laguna  Sabinas,  on  the  Staked 
Plains.  One  of  the  runners  met  Quinnie  at  the  old  camp 
they  were  in  when  they  killed  Sewall,  and  they  told  him 
where  we  were.  After  we  had  killed  and  wounded  so  many 
of  them  in  March,  they  said  they  would  never  fight  the 
hunters  again,  in  a  body.  The  lesson  of  the  Adobe  Walls, 
and  that  of  the  Casa  Amarilla,  as  they  called  the  place 
where  we  fought  them  in  March,  had  taught  them  to  not 
go  up  against  the  long-range  guns  that  the  hunters  carried ; 


286         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

and  that  they  would  just  dodge  and  elude  us  until  we  got 
weary  of  the  chase. 

Quinnie  knew  perfectly  well,  when  he  was  observed 
coming  straight  to  us,  where  we  were,  soldiers  and  all. 
He  also  kiiew  where  the  Indians  were  camped,  which  was 
in  the  Blue  sand-hills,  not  to  exceed  seven  miles  from 
where  we  finally  abandoned  the  trail.  He  would  never 
have  thought  of  coming  to  our  camp  if  the  soldiers  had  not 
been  with  us,  fearing  we  would  seize  him  and  under  penalty 
of  death  make  him  take  us  to  the  Indians,  which  we  surely 
would  have  done  had  it  not  been  for  Captain  Nolan. 

Quinnie  expected  us  to  follow  him  when  he  left  our  camp 
at  the  head  of  the  Colorado.  He  would  accomplish  two 
purposes  in  coming  out  of  his  way  some  forty  miles  in  all, 
to  reach  our  camp  and  then  get  back  again  to  the  Indians : 
one  was,  "To  show  his  commission  and  orders,  thus  -hoping 
to  allay  the  vengeance  of  the  hunters,  and  check  the  move- 
ment of  the  soldiers  against  their  camp;  "  the  other  was, 
"To  get  us  as  far  south  as  possible,  when  he  would,  under 
cover  of  night,  turn  and  hurry  to  the  sand-hills  and  get 
the  hostile  Indians  moving  for  Fort  Sill,  with  us  too  far 
away  to  overtake  them." 

But  we  did  not  follow  him.  In  the  end  we  really  did 
worse.  Quinnie  was  supplied  with  a  pair  of  army  field- 
glasses  from  Fort  Sill,  and  from  their  point  of  observance 
in  the  sand-hills  they  noted  our  approach  on  the  28th; 
and  in  the  early  evening  they  were  all  moving  east,  keep- 
ing in  the  basins  of  the  sand-hills.  When  they  saw  our 
command  turn  toward  the  Laguna  Plata,  following  the 
water  party,  they  halted  and  camped.  They  saw  as 
separate  the  morning  of  the  29th,  and  watched  us  all  the 
forenoon.  Then,  on  the  evening  of  the  29th,  they  started 
to  run  the  guantlet  between  us,  and,  some  of  them  know- 


STORY   OF  THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  287 

ing  these  plains  from  childhood,  they  could  safely  antici- 
pate where  each  party  was  that  night;  and  keeping  a 
course  as  far  from  us  hunters  as  possible,  and  crossing 
Nolan's  trail  well  in  his  rear,  they  got  through  to  the 
eastern  breaks  of  the  Staked  Plains  without  being  seen, 
and  hurried  on  to  Fort  Sill  as  fast  as  they  could. 

They  left  nearly  200  head  of  horses  and  mules  in  the 
sand-hills.  They  camped  one  day,  the  30th,  in  the  rough 
broken  country  northeast,  a  little  way  from  the  old  first 
camp,  where  Freed  and  his  party  first  fought  them.  They 
left  more  than  one  hundred  head  of  stock  here  in  these 
breaks.  They  were  so  scared  and  in  such  a  hurry  they 
were  afraid  to  take  time  to  gather  them  up.  In  fact, 
they  lost  more  or  less  stock  until  they  got  across  Red 
river  into  the  Indian  Territory. 

After  leaving  the  old  battle-ground,  where  we  found 
Benson,  we  followed  down  Thompson's  canon  at  easy 
stages,  and  when  we  were  near  the  mouth  of  the  canon 
we  ran  onto  a  large  surveying  party.  At  sight  of  us  they 
fortified  in  a  hurry,  the  best  they  could.  When  we  were 
within  a  quarter  of  a  mile  of  them,  we  sent  a  truce  ahead, 
and  soon  there  were  joyful  greetings.  They  saw  the  In- 
dians during  the  30th,  and  were  about  to  leave  for  Fort 
Griffin,  on  account  of  their  close  proximity,  but  seeing 
the  next  morning  that  they  were  gone  and  their  horses 
scattered  in  every  direction,  they  concluded  to  remain 
close  in  camp,  awaiting  developments.  And  when  they 
first  saw  us  coming  down  the  valley  of  the  Thompson 
Fork  of  the  Brazos,  they  thought  and  feared  we  were 
Indians. 

Their  story  of  the  Indians'  scattered  horses  interested 
us  considerably.  We  passed  on  out  into  the  region  where 
they  were  to  be  found.    We  went  into  camp  below  where 


288         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

the  Indians  had  stopped  over  on  the  30th,  and  went  to 
work  scouring  the  country  over  for  horses.  The  next 
day  we  gathered  in  136  head.  Poor  old  Keno  was  there! 
His  back  on  each  side  was  raw  and  swollen,  the  top  of  his 
withers  was  bruised  and  chafed  raw.  When  John  Mathias 
saw  him,  and  as  I  was  using  a  lot  of  words  about  it,  which 
I  refrain  from  using  here,  he  said:  ''It  just  makes  a  fel- 
low feel  Uke  he  wanted  to  scalp  the  Chairman  of  the  In- 
dian Rights  Association." 

None  of  us  had  ever  seen  the  most  of  this  stock.  The 
big  spotted  horse  belonging  to  George  Williams,  that  one 
of  the  Indian  warriors  had  caught,  mounted,  and  rode 
through  Rath,  when  the  Rath  raid  was  made,  was  even 
in  worse  condition  than  Keno.  ,  Billy  Devins's,  Freed's, 
and  the  two  Englishmen's  stock  were  all  here,  and  some 
belonging  to  other  hunters,  who  were  not  members  of  the 
Forlorn  Hope,  were  also  identified. 

That  evening  we  held  a  council.  We  looked  over  the 
descriptions  in  the  ''bills  of  sale"  the  ranchmen  had  given 
us.  It  was  decided  to  divide  the  party,  one-half  taking 
the  Indians'  back  trail  for  the  sand-hills,  the  other  half  tp 
take  the  stock,  follow  the  Indians'  trail  to  the  north  prong 
of  the  Salt  Fork  of  the  Brazos,  thereby  hoping  to  pick  up 
more  stock  that  the  Indians  might  have  left  behind  them, 
then  turn  and  go  to  Rath  and  there  await  the  return  of 
the  party  that  would  go  back  to  the  sand-hills.  Some 
of  us  were  eager  to  go  back,  more  from  curiosity  than  other- 
wise; and  we  did  so. 

The  next  morning  we  were  up  by  daylight.  Breakfast 
was  over  and  the  division  of  the  party  about  to  be  made. 
Harvey  said: 

'^Now,  boys,  fix  it  up  among  yourselves  which  end  of 
the  trail  you  will  take.     I  won't  make  the  division.     Some 


STORY   OF  THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  289 

of  you  want  to  go  back  to  the  sand-hills.  For  myself, 
I  am  feeling  badly.  The  last  few  days'  work  have  been 
hard  on  me.  You  boys  have  readily  performed  every 
duty  J  have  imposed  upon  you  ever  since  we  left  Rath, 
and  I  now  hand  the  responsibility  over  to  you  for  the 
future." 

''No,  no,"  we  told  him,  one  and  all  of  the  same  voice; 
''you  make  the  detail.  We  will  stay  organized  until  the 
stock  question  is  settled.  You  take  one-third  of  the  men 
then  and  go  to  Rath's  Store.  Take  all  the  extra  stock 
along  and  wait  for  us  to  come  in." 

He  took  Carr,  Keyes,  Comett,  Squirrel-eye,  the  two 
Englishmen,  the  negro  soldier,  the  Boston  boy,  and  poor 
Benson,  whom  we  had  to  watch  to  keep  him  from  wan- 
dering off;  as  he  would  keep  saying,  "I  must  go  and  find 
the  boys."  Had  he  suffered  during  his  ninety-six  hours 
of  thirst? 

I  was  one  of  the  party  who  went  to  the  sand-hills. 

We  separated,  all  three  parties  leaving  camp  at  once, 
with  "So-long  to  you,"  and  "So-long  to  you,"  calUng  back 
to  each  other  by  name.  "  Don't  let  the  Quohadas  get  those 
horses  again."  "Yes,  and  look  out  for  the  pale-face 
rustlers,  too,  Harvey."  This  last  was  an  admonition 
with  a  meaning.  For  the  cattle-men  along  the  border  had 
given  us  the  names  of  a  few  professional  horsethieves. 

We  were  two  days  going  back  to  the  sand-hills.  We 
followed  the  trail  the  Indians  had  made  in  their  flight  for 
Fort  Sill.  When  we  got  fairly  out  of  the  breaks  and  on 
top  of  the  "yarner,"  we  met  Tonkawa  Johnson  and  his 
five  scouts.  From  him  we  learned  the  condition  of  Nolan's 
command.  Johnson  had  been  sent  out  to  hunt  for  that 
part  of  Nolan's  missing  pack  train  which  was  finally  found 
at  Lagima  Rica. 


290         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

We  entered  the  Blue  sand-hills  where  the  Indians  left 
them.  After  following  the  trail  about  seven  miles  we  came 
to  the  place  where  they  had  lived  since  Captain  Lee  cap- 
tured their  camp  at  Laguna  Plata.  We  passed  by  horses, 
mules  and  ponies  for  two  miles  before  we  came  to  the  camp. 
We  stayed  in  these  sand-hills  for  three  days.  We  went 
out  to  where  we  had  abandoned  the  trail  on  the  evening 
of  the  28th  of  July.  Seven  miles  on  an  air  hne  would 
have,  led  us  to  their  camp.  Twice  that  distance  was  the 
trail  we  abandoned,  the  trail  leading  past  their  camp  on 
the  north  some  five  miles,  and  looping  back  again.  We 
could  not  but  admire  their  strategy.  We  rounded  up  in 
these  sand-hills  107  head  of  stock,  and  drove  them  to 
Rath,  where  the  other  boys  who  had  followed  the  Indian 
trail  to  the  Brazos  had  arrived  two  days  before  us. 

We  placed  all  the  stock  -in  one  herd,  and  sent  out  word 
in  every  direction  for  the  hunters  to  come  and  get  their 
stock.  Rath  boarded  us  at  the  restaurant  until  we  got 
our  outfits  rigged  up  for  the  fall  and  winter  hunt.  In  Sep- 
tember we  scattered  over  the  range  from  the  South  Concho 
to  the  Pease  river,  as  secure  in  our  camps  as  if  we  were  in 
a  quiet  and  peaceful  Quaker  neighborhood,  so  far  as  In- 
dians were  concerned. 

The  summer  of  1877  is  on  record  as  being  the  last  of  the 
Comanches  in  the  role  of  raiders  and  scalpers ;  and  we  hunt- 
ers were  justly  entitled  to  credit  in  winding  up  the  Indian 
trouble  in  the  great  State  of  Texas,  so  far  as  the  Kiowas 
and  Comanches  were  concerned.  Those  Indians  had  been 
a  standing  menace  to  the  settlement  of  90,000  square  miles 
of  territory  in  Texas  and  New  Mexico. 

And  to-day,  1907,  it  is  a  pleasing  thought  to  the  few  sur- 
viving hunters  of  the  old  Southwest  to  know  that  the  en- 


STORY   OF  THE   SOUTHWEST    PLAINS.  291 

tire  country  of  the  then  vast  unsettled  region  is  now  dotted 
over  with  thousands  of  peaceful,  prosperous  homes. 

I  pulled  out  of  Rath  September  21st  for  the  head  of 
North  Concho ;  and  that  winter  hunted  along  the  eastern 
edge  of,  and  on,  the  Staked  Plains. 

The  last  great  slaughter  of  the  buffaloes  was  during  the 
months  of  December,  1877,  and  January,  1878,  more  than 
one  hundred  thousand  buffalo-hides  being  taken  by  the 
army  of  hunters  during  that  fall  and  winter.  That  winter 
and  spring  many  families  came  onto  the  range  and  selected 
their  future  homes,  and  killed  buffaloes  for  hides  and  meat. 
More  meat  was  cured  that  winter  than  the  three  previous 
years  all  put  together. 

In  the  spring  of  1877  but  fpw  buffalo  went  north  of  Red 
river.  The  last  big  band  of  these  fast-diminishing  animals 
that  I  ever  saw  was  ten  miles  south  of  the  Mustang  Spring, 
going  southwest.  They  never  came  north  again-.  And  I 
afterward  learned  that  the  remnant  of  the  main  herd  that 
were  not  killed  crossed  the  Rio  Grande  and  took  to  the 
hills  of  Chihuahua  in  old  Mexico.  •  This  last  view  was  in 
February,  1878.  During  the  rest  of  the  time  that  I  was 
on  the  range,  the  hunters  could  only  see  a  few  isolated 
bands  of  buffaloes.  And  if  one  heard  of  a  herd  which  con- 
tained fifty  head  he  would  not  only  look,  but  be  surprised. 

In  May  the  hunters  were  leaving  the  range.  Some  went 
to  the  San  Juan  mines,  some  to  the  Black  Hills,  and  some 
"back  to  the  States,"  as  they  would  say. 

Many  picked  out  one  of  the  many  fine  locations  that  he 
had  had  an  eye  on  for  a  year,  two  years,  or  three  years,  as 
the  case  might  be,  and  he  would  settle  down  to  ranching. 
In  a  few  years,  personally  I  lost  track  of  them.  But  in 
memory,  never. 

Speaking  of  the  members  who  took  part  in  the  battle  of 


292         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

March  18th,  1877',  and  were  also  members  of  the  Forlorn 
Hope:  I  can  now  look  back  in  my  evening  of  life,  with 
very  many  pleasant  recollections.  It  was  the  most  dem- 
ocratic body  of  men  imaginable.  Different  in  religious 
views,  politics,  financial  standing,  and  in  the  social  scale  of 
life,  yet,  as  the  phrase  goes,  all  '^common  as  old  boots." 
There  were  men  with  a  classical  education;  some  there 
were  who  could  not  read,  write,  or  cipher;  but  they  could 
name  the  brands  and  could  tell  you  the  peculiarities  of  the 
owners  from  the  Rio  Grande  to  the  Red  river.  One  of  the 
Englishmen,  as  we  called  the  two  whose  camp  was  literally 
destroyed,  and  who  were  with  us  in  the  Casa  Amarilla  fight, 
also  a  member  of  the  '^  Forlorn  Hope,"  was  not  wholly 
English,  for  Scotch  blood  flowed  in  his  veins.  He  was  a 
poet.  He  never  told  the  author,  but  it  came  to  him  sec- 
ond-hand, that  Harry  Burns,  the  Scotch-Englishman,  was 
a  descendant  of  Bobbie  Burns,  the  famous  Scotch  poet. 
His  verses  composed  and  published  in  the  Dodge  City 
Times,  addressed  to  the  '^hunters"  after  the  ninety  days' 
scout,  and  which  are  reproduced  in  this  book,  are  timely, 
and  surely  will  be  appreciated  by  the  hunters  of  those  days. 
Another  hunter,  a  ''Prodigal  Son,"  also  composed  a  few 
verses  when  he  was  leaving  western  Kansas  to  hunt  in 
Texas.  The  words  were  sung  all  over  the  range  with  as 
much  vim  as  the  old-time  ''John  Brown's  Body."  It  had 
a  very  catchy  tune,  and  with  the  melody  from  the  hunters' 
voices  it  was  beautiful  and  soul-inspiring  to  me.  One 
stanza  and  the  chorus  is  all  that  I  can  now  recall  of  it. 
It  ran  thus : 

"  1  love  these  wild  flowers,  in  this  fair  land  of  ours, 
1  love  to  hear  the  wild  curlew  scream 
On  the  cliffs  of  white  rock,  where  the  antelope  flock. 
To  graze  on  the  herbage  so  green. 


STORY   OF  THE   SOUTHWEST    PLAINS.  293 

CHORUS. 

"O,  give  me  a  home,  where  the  buffalo  roam, 
Where  the  deer  and  the  antelope  play. 
Where  seldom  is  heard  a  discouraging  word 
And  the  sky  is  not  cloudy  all  day. 

We  were  camped  at  the  Casa  Amarilla  on  the  Fourth  of  ^ 
July.  We  made  a  flag  from  a  part  of  a  blue  shirt ;  the  red 
stripes  from  a  red  shirt,  the  white  stripes  from  a  flour-sack. 
We  used  the  tin-foil  from  around  our  plug  tobacco  for 
stars.  Our  standard  was  a  tepee-pole.  We  planted  it  on 
top  of  the  pyramid  which  we  made,  twelve  feet  high, 
from  the  stones  from  the  old  Indian  fort.  After  the  flag 
was  hoisted,  it  floated  about  twenty-five  feet  above  the 
ground. 

One  of  the  boys  said,  **It's  a  little  trick,  aint  it?"  Then 
he  added,  ''But  it's  got  a  mighty  big  meaning." 

"Yes,"  said  another;  "I  fit  agin  it  wimst,  but  it's  sacred 
now ;  I  love  it.  It's  got  a  portion  of  my  old  red  shirt  in 
its  folds." 

We  delivered  patriotic  orations;  declaimed  some  of 
Daniel  Webster's  and  Henry  Clay's  speeches  to  Congress. 
We  belabored  King  George  in  particular,  and  Great  Britain 
in  general,  much  to  the  delight  of  the  two  Englishmen, 
whom  we  had  told  in  advance  that  ''present  company  was 
excepted";  but  that  all  Englishmen  not  present  would 
"catch  fits." 

We  had  a  code  of  etiquette,  and  woe  to  the  man  that 
violated  it.  There  was  a  kangaroo  court  always  in  ses- 
sion, with  Judge  Kress  (Wild  Bill)  on  the  bench.  Men 
were  even  tried  for  imaginary  offenses,  and  always  found 
"guilty."  The  sentence  was  to  go  out  a  given  number 
of  steps  from  camp  and  bring  in  buffalo-chips  to  cook 
with.  All  those  dry  hot  days  there  was  not  the  semblance 
of   ill-feeling   one  toward   another.    Some   had  singxilar 


294         THE  BORDER  AND  THE*  BUFFALO. 

peculiarities,  but  they  were  all  by  common  consent  passed 

by. 

I  remained  in  Texas  until  the  fall  of  1879;  helped  to 
organize  Wheeler  county  in  the  Panhandle,  it  being  the 
first  county  organized  in  that  part  of  Texas.    From  Texas 


Ilice  v.  cook. 

I  went  to  Chautauqua^county,  Kansas,  and  from  there  to 
Fort  Berthold,  in  the  Dakota  Territory ;  was  in  the  U.  S. 
Indian  service,  serving  as  Superintendent  of  Indian  farm- 
ing ;  was  there  during  the  Sioux  Indian  Messiah  craze,  the 
winter  Sitting  Bull  was  killed. 


STORY   OF   THE    SOUTHWEST   PLAINS. 


295 


I  first  saw  Sitting  Bull,  that  crafty  old  Medicine-man,  in 
the  winter  of  1885,  when  he  came  to  visit  the  Mandan, 
Gros  Ventre,  and  Arickaree  Indians.  He  was  then  paving 
the  way  to  get  into  their  good  graces  in  order  to  get  those 
friendly  tribes  to  violate  their  peace  compact  with  the 
Government.  While  living  in  Dakota  Mrs.  Cook  was  one 
of  the  unfortunate  victims  of  the  great  blizzard  of  January, 


JOHN  NELSON  CRUMP. 


WAYNE  SOLOMON  REES. 


1888.  She  lay  in  a  snow-drift  two  nights  and  one  day, 
over  forty  hours,  and  from  the  effects  of  this  experience, 
her  feet  were  badly  frozen,  so  much  so  that  she  had  to  im- 
dergo  a  partial  amputation  of  both  feet.  And  when  the 
wounds  healed  she  suffered  so  with  chilblains  that  I  was 
compelled  to  take  her  to  the  Cascade  mountain  region  of 
Oregon,  where  we  now  reside. 

Having  no  living  children  of  our  own,  we  took  to  raise. 


296         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

as  best  we  could,  an  orphan  child  of  an  Confederate  ex- 
soldier.  When  we  took  him,  he  was  four  years  old.  He 
is  now  (1907)  near  fourteen  years  of  age,  a  manly  little 
man.  His  father  had  been  one  of  Robert  E.  Lee's  veter- 
ans, enlisting  in  Virginia  in  1861,  and  surrendering  at  Appo- 
mattox in  1865,  having  been  continuously  in  the  service 
four  years,  fighting  for  the  principles  that  his  conscience 
told  him  were  right.  He  has  the  distinction  of  being  one 
of  the  victims  of  the  '^Petersburg  Mine  Explosion."  He 
was  thrown  many  feet  into  the  air,  and  fell  back  into  the 
crater  unharmed. 

And  if  I  am  the  only  Union  ex-soldier  who  has  cared  as 
best  we  could  for  the  baby-boy  of  one  of  General  Lee's 
valiant  soldiers,  I  will  feel  it  is  a  distinction  that  Mrs.  Cook 
and  myself  can  take  great  consolation  in. 

John  Crump  was  the  name  of  the  Confederate  soldier 
spoken  of.  I  never  changed  his  son's  name,  but  left  it  by 
his  father's  request — John  Nelson  Crump.  The  Crumps 
were  a  credit  to  the  State  of  Virginia. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

Sol  Rees. — Dull  Knife  Raid,  1878. — His  Night  Ride  from  Kirwin 
to  the  Prairie  Dog. —  Elected  Captain  of  the  Settlers — Single- 
handed  Combat  with  a  Warrior  on  the  Sappa. — Meeting  Major 
Mock  and  U.  S.  Soldiers. — Sworn  in  as  Guide  and  Scout. — On  a 
Hot  Trail. — The  Four  Butchered  Settlers  on  the  Beaver. — Finds 
Lacerated,  Nude  Girl. — On  the  Trail. — Finds  Annie  Pangle's  Wed- 
ding Dress — Overtook  Played-out  Warrior. — Hurry  to  Ogalalla. 
— Lost  the  Trail. — Goes  to  New  Mexico. — Meets  Kit  Carson's 
Widow. — Down  with  Mountain  Fever. — Living  at  Home  in  Quiet. 

A  PEN  SKETCH  OF  SOL.  BEES, 

As  Taken  From  the  Man's   Lips   by   the  Author,  Who   First 
Met  Him  in  the  Panhandle  of  Texas,  in  1876. 

"I  was  bom  in  Delaware  county,  Indiana,  on  the  21st 
day  of  October,  1847.  I  enlisted  in  Co.  E.,  147th  Indiana 
Regiment,  March  5th,  1865.  But  as  that  greatest  of 
modern  wars  was  near  its  close,  I  did  not  even  see  the  big 
end  of  the  last  of  it.  I  came  to  Kansas  in  1866,  stopping 
for  a  time  in  the  old  Delaware  Indian  Reserve,  southwest 
of  Fort  Leavenworth.  From  among  the  Delawares  I 
went  out  to  northwest  Kansas,  in  1872,  and  took  up  a 
claim  on  the  Prairie  Dog,  in  Decatur  county.  I  trapped, 
and  hunted  buffalo,  until  the  Indians  stole  my  stock, 
when  I  had  to  quit  hunting  long  enough  to  get  even,  and 
a  Uttle  ahead,  of  the  redskins.  In  summer-time  I  would 
put  in  my  time  improving  my  homestead;  in  winter, 
hunting  and  trapping.  But  when  Kansas  passed  her 
drastic  ''hunting  law,"  concerning  the  buffalo-hide  hunters, 
I  drifted  to  the  Panhandle  of  Texas,  in  1876  (after  taking 
in  the  Philadelphia  Centennial);  for  the  next  three  and 
one-half  years  you  have  had  a  pretty  good  trail  of  me." 

(297) 


298  THE   BORDER   AND   THE    BUFFALO. 


SOL  REES. 


STORY   OF   THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  299 

To  digress  for  the  moment.  This  Sol.  Rees  was  one  of 
the  Government  scouts  and  guides  in  what  is  known  as 
the  "DuU  Knife  War''  of  1878.  Dull  Knife^  was  chief 
of  a  large  band  of  northern  Cheyenne  warlike  Indians. 

Congress  had  passed  an  act  moving  all  of  the  trouble- 
some Indians  from  the  so-called  Cheyenne  country  north 
to  the  Indian  Territory.  Dull  .Knife  and  his  band  were 
taken  to  the  Indian  Territory,  to  near  Fort  Reno,  on  the 
North  Fork  of  the  Canadian  river.  Totally  dissatisfied 
with  the  conditions  as  had  been  represented  to  him  by 
the  United  States  commissioners,  he  asked  for,  and  was 
granted,  a  coimcil.  Robert  Bent,  a  son  of  old  Col. 
Bent,  was  a  half-breed  southern  Cheyenne,  and  was  the 
interpreter. 

After  the  council  was  in  sitting,  Dull  Knife  arose  and 
cited  his  wrongs.  It  has  been  said  no  more  eloquence  has 
ever  come  from  the  lips  of  an  Indian  orator.  He  said  in 
brief:  "I  am  going  back  to  where  my  children  were  bom; 
where  my  father  and  mother  are  buried  according  to  In- 
dian rites;  where  my  forefathers  followed  the  chase; 
where  the  snow-waters  from  the  mountains  nm  clear  to- 
ward the  white  man's  sea;  yes,  where  the  spreckled  trout 
leaps  the  swift-running  waters.  You  people  have  lied 
to  us.  Here  your  streams  run  slow  and  sluggish;  the 
water  is  not  good ;  our  children  sicken  and  die.  My  young 
warriors  have  been  out  for  nearly  two  moons,  and  find  no 
buffalo;  you  said  there  were  plenty;  they  find  only  the 
skeletons;  the  white  hunters  have  killed  them  for  their 
hides.  Take  us  back  to  the  land  of  our  fathers.  I  am 
done." 

At  this.  Little  Robe,  head  chief  of  the  southern  Chey- 
ennes,  knocked  him  down  with  a  loaded  quirt-handle. 
After  regaining  his  feet,  he  shook  the  dust  from  his  blan- 


300         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

ket,  then,  folding  it  around  himself,  walked  out  of  the 
council  lodge  and  said:    "I  am  going  '/^    and  go  he  did. 

Robert  Bent  said:  '^ Little  Robe,  you  have  made  a 
mistake."  That  same  night  his  band  was  surrounded  at 
their  camp,  by  wha-t  effective  troops  there  were  at  the 
fort;  but,  regardless  of  that,  the  band  sUpped  past  the 
cordon.  Dull  Knife  at  their  lead,  and  for  800  miles,  he 
whipped,  eluded,  and  out-strategied  the  U.  S.  Army,  and 
left  a  bloody  trail  of  murder  and  rapine  equal  in  atrocity 
to  any  in  the  annals  of  Indian  warfare. 

The  author  was  on  Gageby  creek,  in  the  Panhandle 
of  Texas,  twelve  miles  from  Fort  ElUott,  sleeping  soundly 
at  midnight,  when  a  runner  came  from  Major  Bankhead, 
in  command,  requesting  me  to  report  to  him  at  once. 
•And  for  two  months  I  was  in  the  saddle,  but  never  north 
of  the  Arkansas  river.  I  had  lost  track  of  Rees,  early  in 
the  spring  before  the  outbreak.  Nor  did  I  see  or  hear 
from  him  until  the  spring  of  1907,  only  to  find  that  he 
too  had  served  as  scout  and  and  guide  on  the  Dull  Knife 
raid.  I  here  copy  two  official  documents,  now  in  Reese's 
possession,  given  him  at  that  time. 

Office  Acting  Asst.  Quartermaster,  U.  S.  A.^ 
Fort  Wallace,  Kansas,  Nov.  4,  1878. 
Sol.  Rees,  Citizen  Scout,  has  this  day  presented  to  me  a  certificate^ 
given  him  by  Major  Mock,  Fourth  U.  S.  Cavalry,  for  thirty-nine 
days'  service  as  scout  and  guide,  at  $5  per  day,  amounting  to  one 
hundred  and  ninety-five  dollars.  This  certificate  I  have  forwarded 
to  Department  Headquarters,  asking  authority  and  funds  to  pay 
Rees's  claim.  On  a  favorable  reply  and  funds  being  furnished ^ 
I  will  pay  the  claim.  George  M.  Love, 

Isi  Lieut.   16th  Inf.,  Acting  Asst.  Q.  M, 

Office  Acting  Asst.  Q.  M.,  U.  S.  A., 

Fort  Wallace,  Kansas,  Nov.  26,  1878. 

Mr.  Sol.  Rees,  Slab  City,  Kan. —  Sir  :  Enclosed  please  find  my  cheeky 

No.  59,  on  First  National  Bank  of  Leavenworth.  Kansas,  for  $195, 


STORY   OF   THE    SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  301 

in  payment  for  your  services  as  scout  and  guide,  in  October  and  No- 
vember, 1878,  and  for  which  you  signed  Receipt  Rolls,  on  your  being 
discharged.     On  this  coming  to  hand,  please  acknowledge  receipt. 
I  am,  sir,  very  respectfully. 

Your  obedient  servimt, 

GeorgE'M.  Love, 
Ul  LietU.  16th  Inf.,  Acting  A.Q.  M. 

The  author  now  gives  Rees's  experiences  and  his  obser- 
vations as  to  the  part  he  took  in  it.  This  is  as  he  dictated 
it  to  the  author : 

I  was  in  Kirwin,  Kansas,  when  I  heard  of  the  runaways. 
It  was  on  the  29th  day  of  September,  and  anticipating 
the  route  they  would  follow  to  the  Platte  river,  on  account 
of  water,  I  made  a  night  ride,  and  got  home  just  at  day- 
light. I  met  settlers  the  next  morning,  and  they  told  me 
the  Indians  had  camped  that  night  on  the  Prairie  Dog, 
nine  miles  above  my  home.  I  saddled  up  and  struck 
that  way.  When  I  got  about  five  miles,  I  met  a  party 
of  homeseekers,  who  were  bringing  in  a  wounded  man  to- 
ward my  place.  I  went  on,  and  after  a  while  I  found  the 
Indians  had  gone  to  the  Sappa.  I  then  went  to  Oberlin, 
found  the  people  badly  excited,  and  there  I  organized  a 
party. 

Poorly  armed  as  they  were,  I  started  on  the  trail.  We 
went  from  there  to  Jake  Kieffer's  ranch.  There  the  wound- 
ed began  to  come  in,  and  the  people  that  got  away 
from  the  Indians.  Here  We  reorganized  and  I  was  elected 
captain.  Then  we  took  the  trail  of  the  Indians,  and  just 
as  we  got  up  the  divide,  we  saw  three  Indians  rise  up  out 
of  a  draw, — man,  woman,  and  boy  about  sixteen  years 
old.  We  headed  them  off  to  keep  them  from  joining  the 
main  band,  and  drove  them  to  the  timber  on  the  Sappa. 
Here  we  separated  into  three  parties,  one  to  go  above, 


302         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

another  below,  and  the  other  to  scare  them  out  of  the 
brush.  The  party  I  was  with,  when  we  came  to  the  brush, 
did  not  want  to  go  in  close.  So  I  saw  it  was  up  to  me 
alone.  I  saw  a  squaw  going  up  a  little  divide.  I  shot 
twice  at  her.  Then  I  saw  the  buck  slide  down  off  of  a 
bank  and  run  into  the  brush,  a  patch  of  willows.  I  got 
on  my  horse  and  rode  toward  the  willows.  He  rose  up 
and  shot  at  me.  I  was  not  more  than  twenty  steps  from 
him.  I  had  been  leaning  over  on  the  right  side  of  my 
horse,  at  the  time  he  shot.  I  wished  to  expose  as  little 
of  my  body  as  possible.  I  rose  up  and  shot  at  him.  We 
took  shot  about  for  five  shots,  when  in  trying  to  work  the 
cylinder  of  my  revolver,  the  last  cartridge  had  slipped 
back,  and  the  cylinder  would  not  work.  The  warrior 
had  fired  his  last  shot,  but  I  did  not  know  it  at  the  time. 

I  then  went  back  to  a  man  named  Ingalls,  and  got  a 
Colt's  repeating  rifle.  When  I  came  back  to  where  I  had 
left  the  Indian,  he  was  gone.  He  had  crossed  the  Sappa 
on  a  drift ;  and  I  can't,  for  the  life  of  me,  see  how  he  could 
have  done  it.  I  dismounted  and  followed  over,  and  found 
he  was  soon  to  be  a  good.  Injun.  Taking  out  my  knife, 
he  signed  to  me,  ''not  to  scalp  him  until  he  was  dead,"  but 
I  had  no  time  to  spare;  for  there  was  much  to  do — it 
seemed  to  be  a  busy  time  of  the  year.  So  I  took  his  scalp. 
I  opened  his  shirt  and  found  four  bullet-holes  in  his  chest, 
that  you  could  cover  with  the  palm  of  your  hand. 

After  this  we  started  back  down  the  creek,  and  had 
gone  only  a  short  distance  when  we  met  Major  Mock, 
with  five  companies  of  the  Fourth  U.  S.  Cavalry  and  two 
companies  of  the  Nineteenth  Infantry.  The  troops  were 
all  angry.  Col.  Lewis  had  been  killed  the  day  before. 
Here  is  where  I  met  our  old  friend  Hi.  Bickerdyke.  As 
soon  as  I  met  him,  he  said:  ''Major,  here  is  my  old  friend 


304         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

Sol.  Rees,  one  of  the  hottest  Indian  trailers  I  ever  met. 
I  have  been  with  him  in  Texas  in  tight  places." 

The  major  said,  ''Glad  to  see  you,  Rees.  Will  you  go 
with  us  as  scout  and  guide  at  $5  per  day  and  rations, 
until  this  thing  is  ended?  I  understand  you  are  an  old 
northern  Kansas  buffalo  hunter,  and  know  the  country 
well."  I  said:  ''Yes,  Major,  I'll  go;  but  not  so  much  for 
the  five  dollars  as  to  have  this  thing  settled,  once  for  all, 
so  that  we  settlers  can  develop  our  homes  in  peace."  We 
struck  the  trail  on  a  divide.  "Take  the  lead,  Reese,  and 
everyone  will  follow  you,"  he  said.  We  followed  the  trail 
down  on  the  Beaver;  and  there  we  got  into  a  mess.  We 
found  where  the  Indians  had  butchered  four  men.  They 
had  been  digging  potatoes  and  had  been  literally  hacked 
to  pieces  by  the  hoes  they  were  using  in  their  work.  They 
were  the  old-fashioned,  heavy  "nigger"  hoes,  as  they  had 
been  caljed  in  slavery  days.  Evidently,  this  had  been 
done  by  squaws  and  small  boys,  for  all  of  the  moccasin- 
tracks  indicated  it.  The  hogpen  had  been  opened,  so 
that  the  hogs  could  eat  the  bodies.  We  did  not  have 
time  to  give  the  unfortunates  decent  burial,  so  the  major 
ordered  the  soldiers  to  build  a  strong  rail  pen  around  the 
mutilated  bodies,  and  we  passed  on  rapidly,  fearing  the 
devils  would  do  even  worse;  and  the  idea  now  was  to 
crowd  them. 

From  here  the  trail  went  up  a  divide.  I  said  to  Hi. 
Bickerdyke,  "You  take  the  left,  I'll  take  the  right,  and 
Amos  will  lead  the  command  up  the  divide."  I  had  gone 
about  a  mile  when  I  saw  something  moving  toward  a  jut 
in  the  draw.  I  rode  fast,  and  when  I  got  up  close  in- 
stead of  going  around,  as  is-  usual  in  such  cases,  I  rode 
straight  to  the  object.  It  proved  to  be  a  white  girl  about 
sixteen  years  old.     She  was  nude,  her  neck  and  shoulders 


STORY   OF   THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  305 

were  lacerated  with  quirt  (whip)  marks.  She  was  badly 
frightened  and  threw  up  her  hands  in  an  appealing  way. 
I  said:   ''Poor  girl!    Have  they  shot  you?" 

She  answered:  ''No;  but  I  suffer  so  with  pain  and 
fright." 

She  was  of  foreign  origin.  It  was  hard  for  me  to  under- 
stand her,"  she  talked  so  brokenly.  All  the  humane 
characteristics  I  ever  possessed  came  to  the  front,  and 
I  guess  I  shed  tears.  The  sight  of  that  poor  helpless  girl 
so  angered  me  that  I  then  promised  myself  that  as  long 
as  there  was  a  warpath  Indian,  I  would  camp  on  his  trail. 
When  she  saw  me  approaching  her  she  sat  down  in  the 


I  said:  "Poor  child;  what  can  I  do  for  you?  Where 
are  your  people?"  She  understood  me,  and  said  she 
wanted  something  to  cover  her  body.  I  dismounted, 
unsaddled  my  horse,  and  tossed  her  my  top  saddle-blanket. 
I  turned  my  back,  and  she  arose,  wrapped  the  blanket 
around  her  body,  and  walked  toward  me  and  said:  "A 
string."  Turning  toward  her,  I  cut  about  four  feet  from 
the  end  of  my  lariat.  Unwinding  the  strands,  I  tied  one 
around  her  waist;  then,  folding  the  top  of  the  blanket 
over  her  head  and  shoulders,  I  cut  holes  in  under  where  it 
should  fit  around  her  neck.  I  ran  one  of  the  strands 
through  and  tied  it  so  as  to  keep  the  blanket  from  fall- 
ing down  over  her  shoulders.  I  then  got  her  on  behind 
me  and  started  for  the  troops.  When  I  got  up  on  the 
divide  I  was  nearly  two  miles  behind  the  command.  It 
had  halted  upon  noticing  my  approach  from  the  rear. 
I  rode  up,  and  turned  the  girl  over  to  Major  Mock.  The 
major  got  George  Shoemaker  to  take  her  back,  in  hopes 
of  finding  her  people,  or  some  women  to  care  for  her. 

That  night  we  went  on  to  the  Republican  river,  about 


306         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

six  miles  below  the  forks.  The  Indians  camped  about 
three  miles  above,  on  a  little  stream  sometimes  called 
Deer  creek.  That  night  Major  Mock  wanted  to  know  of 
me  if  I  could  find  a  cowboy  who  would  carry  a  dispatch 
to  Ogalalla,  Nebraska.  I  told  him  I  would  try.  I  started 
at  once  to  himt  one,  and  had  gone  but  a  little  way  until 
I  met  Bill  Street.  I  asked  him  if  he  could  get  through  to 
Ogalalla? 

He  said,  "Yes." 

"Well,  come  on  to  camp."  I  introduced  him  to  Major 
Mock,  and  said:    "Here  is  your  man." 

The  major  handed  him  the  dispatch,  saying,  "Hurry  to 
Ogalalla." 

The  next  morning  we  went  up  the  river  and  struck 
their  last  night's  camp.  And  for  a  natural,  fortified  camp, 
they  surely  had  it.  I  believe  they  expected  to  be  attacked 
here.  They  had  not  been  gone  long,  for  there  were  live 
coals  from  the  willow-brush  fires,  which  was  evidence 
that  we  were  not  far  behind  them.  They  struck  for  the 
breaks  of  the  North  Fork  of  the  Republican.  Across  the 
divide,  and  coming  up  on  the  breaks  to  the  north,  we 
could  see  the  Indians,  and  they  us,  at  the  same  time.  The 
Indians  started  to  run.  Mock  started  to  a  creek  straight 
ahead,  on  the  Frenchman's  Fork  of  the  Republican,  to 
camp  for  noon. 

I  asked,  "Major,  are  you  not  going  to  chase  those  In- 
dians now,  and  stop  these  horrible  murders  of  the  help- 
less settlers?" 

He  said:  "No,  Rees,  the  men  and  horses  are  worn  out, 
and  must  have  a  little  rest  and  food." 

We  went  to  the  creek,  camped,  but  did  not  unsaddle. 
Ate  a  cold  lunch,  moimted,  and  took  the  trail,  which  was 
now    easily    followed.    Paqks   were    dropped;    worn-out 


STORY   OF   THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  307 

ponies  left  on  the  trail ;  and  many  garments  carried  from 
settlers'  homes.  Among  others  was  a  wedding  dress  that 
had  been  worn  by  Annie  Pangle,  who  had  been  married 
in  my  house  to  a  man  named  Bayliss.  I  passed  on  at 
the  head  of  the  command,  and  saw  that  Dull  Knife  and 
his  band  were  running  for  their  lives. 

The  famous  Amos  Chapman  and  I  were  now  riding  to- 
gether, when  we  saw  a  pack  ahead  of  us  that  looked  pe- 
<;uhar.  I  dismounted  to  look  at  it.  It  was  a  live  Indian, 
Pulling  out  my  six-shooter  I  would  have  killed  him,  but 
Amos  said:  *' Don't,  Sol;  here  comes  the  major  on  a  run; 
let's  wait  until  he  comes  up."  Amos  was  a  good  sign- 
talker,  and  tried  to  talk  to  him;  but  he  was  stoical  and 
silent. 

I  put  my  45  to  his  ear  and  said:  "Ame,  it's  signs  or 
death."  He  seemed  to  realize  what  would  come,  and 
sign-talk  he  did,  Sr-plenty.  He  said  he  was  tired  out,  and 
could  not  keep  up,  and  his  people  had  left  him,  not  having 
time  to  stop  and  make  a  travois  to  take  him  along.  Having 
lost  so  much  time  here,  the  Indians  got  out  of  sight.  When 
the  wagons  came  up  this  played-out  warrior  was  loaded 
onto  one,  and  hauled  for  two  days,  when  some  of  the 
soldiers,  who  loved  their  dead  Colonel  Lewis,  sent  him  to 
the  ^' happy  hunting-grounds"  by  the  bullet  route;  and 
Major  Mock  never  did  find  out  who  did  it. 

From  where  we  loaded  this  warrior  the  trail  was  still 
easily  followed. 

About  dusk  the  Major  rode  ahead  again,  and  asked  me, 
''How  far  is  it  to  Ogalalla?" 

I  told  him,  "Six  or  seven  miles  northwest." 

"Pull  for  there;  for  I  have  just  got  to  have  supplies." 

We  headed  that  way,  and  traveled  to  the  South  Platte, 
Arriving  there  in  the  fore  part  of  the  night. 


308         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

Here  we  remained  until  about  2  p.  m.  next  day,  wait- 
ing for  supplies  to  come  from  Sidney.  Mock  thought 
that  the  Indians  would  pass  near  Ogalalla.  But  a  tele- 
gram reached  him  from  Fort  Leavenworth,  stating  that 
Major  Thornburg  would  soon  be  on  the  ground,  with  fresh 
troops  and  horses,  and  for  him  to  follow  Thornburg's  trail. 
Information  having  been  received  by  Thornburg  that 
the  Indians  had  crossed  the  Union  Pacific  Railroad,  six 
miles  east  of  Ogalalla,  instead  of  west  of  there,  as. Mock 
had  supposed  they  would,  having  killed  a  cowboy  near 
where  they  crossed.  We  then  followed  the  military  road 
to  the  crossing  of  the  North  Platte.  Here  we  found 
Thornburg's  supply  train  quicksanded.  Here  our  quar- 
termaster, Lieutenant  Wood  [whom  the  author  well 
knew],  broke  '^red  tape."  Taking  all  the  supphes  we 
needed  and  the  best  of  Thornburg's  mules,  we  moved  on 
north,  and  never  did  see  him  or  his  command  of  fresh 
troops. 

In  moving  north  we  came  to  a  small  creek  and  found 
Thornburg's  trail;  also  Dull  Knife's  trail.  We  followed 
them  to  the  head  of  the  creek.  From  there  Thornburg 
turned  west. 

But  we  scouts  were  satisfied  that  an  Indian  ruse  had 
been  played.  Riding  on  ahead,  north,  I  struck  a  trail 
where  some  were  afoot.  This  was  evidently  the  squaw 
and  pappoose  trail.  About  twenty  miles  farther  the  trail 
gave  out.  By  twos  and  fours  they  scattered  like  quails, 
having  agreed  on  some  meeting-place  farther  on  toward 
their  northern  home;  the  warriors  doing  the  same  with 
Thornburg,  when  he,  too,  found  himself  without  a  trail. 
He  started  a  dispatch  across  to  Mock;  the  bearer  was 
wounded  and  lost  his  horse.  But  we  got  the  dispatch. 
The  Indians  got  his  horse,  leaving  his  saddle.     The  dis- 


STORY   OF  THE   SOUTHWEST    PLAINS.  309 

patch  was  lying  about  twenty  feet  from  the  saddle.  It 
seemed  to  me  the  soldier  thought  the  dispatch  might  be 
found  by  some  of  Mock's  scouts.  The  message  called  upon 
Mock' to  send  him  some  practical  scouts,  as  he  had  lost 
the  warrior  trail. 

Mock  could  not  get  one  of  us  to  go.  We  all  three  thought 
we  were  pretty  fair  trailers  and  knew  what  Dull  Knife 
was  up  to.  He  wanted  to  make  us  lose  all  the  time  possi- 
ble, so  that  he  and  his  band  could  concentrate  many  miles 
away  toward  the  North  Star,  while  we  were  picking  up 
the  broken  threads  of  his  trail.  And  he  did  it.  Amos 
and  Hi.  reasoned  the  case  with  Mock,  and  I  assented  to  all 
the  two  scouts  said.    So  no  trailers  went  to  Thornburg. 

Dull  Knife  and  his  band  were  finally  surrounded  near 
Fort  Robinson,  Nebraska;  cut  their  way  out;  escaped 
to  near  Fort  Keogh,  Montana,  where  they  were  recap- 
tured, and  finally  settled  down  to  farming.  Dull  Knife 
died  in  1885,  at  the  age  of  78  years. 

While  Mock,  Hi.,  Amos  and  I  were  talking  about  the 
ruse  Dull  Knife  had  played  Thornburg,  a  courier  arrived 
from  Fort  Sidney,  with  a  dispatch,  ordering  Mock's  com- 
mand to  Sidney  on  the  U.  P.  R.  R.  near  South  Platte. 
We  lay  over  there  a  few  days,  and  started  back  to  the 
Indian  Territory,  with  another  band  of  disarmed  northern 
Cheyennes,  whose  chief's  name  I  do  not  now  recall.  But 
Dull  Knife  will  forever  ring  in  my  ears. 

There  were  about  300  of  these  Indians,  men,  women 
and  children.  We  took  a  course  for  Wallace,  Kansas. 
We  crossed  a  trackless,  unsettled  region  at  the  time;  no 
roads  or  trails,  except,  at  times,  the  evidences  of  the  old 
buffalo  trails,  until  we  struck  the  head  of  Chief  creek,  a 
branch  of  the  Republican.  During  the  night's  camp 
there  came   a  heavy  snow-storm;    no  timber,  no  brush 


310         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

or  wind-breaks,  and  nothing  but  buffalo-chips  to  cook 
with.  The  next  morning  the  major  asked  me  if  I  could 
take  him  to  timber  by  noon.  I  told  him  I  could,  but 
doubted  if  his  command  and  wards  could  make  it. 

He  asked  me  about  the  route.  '^For  three  miles  to  the 
Repubhcan,  it  was  good ;  but  from  there  to  Dead  Willow 
over  the  sand-hills  it  was  the  devil's  own  ro\ite." 

Arriving  at  Dead  Willow  we  stayed  three  or  four  days, 
I  forget  which.  During  this  time  Lieutenant  Wood  had  a 
bridge  built,  and  a  route  laid  out  for  crossing  the  Arickaree. 
Then  we  went  a  southeast  course  to  the  South  Republican, 
one  day's  march. 

Next  morning  Major  Mock  asked  me  if  I  could  get  a 
dispatch  to  Fort  Wallace  that  day?  I  told  him  I  could  if 
I  had  a  good  mount.  He  said,  ''Take  your  pick  from  the 
command."  I  took  Harry  Coon's  mule.  The  reason  for 
that  was  I  had  noticed  him  on  the  entire  trip.  He  was  a 
careful  stepper;  never  stumbled.  Harry  never  used 
spurs  or  quirt  on  him.  So  I  started  with  the  message, 
leading  my  own  saddle-horse.  This  message  was  urgent, 
and  was  addressed  to  the  commanding  officer  at  Fort 
Leavenworth.  I  got  to  Wallace  just  at  sundown,  and 
handed  the  message  to  the  commanding  officer  at  the  fort. 

He  asked,  ''Where  did  you  leave  the  command?" 

I  said,  "On  the  Republican." 

He  seemed  amazed.  "Orderly,  take  this  man's  stock 
to  the  corral,  and  see  they  are  well  cared  for."  He  in- 
vited me  to  his  quarters.  The  next  morning,  the  poor 
faithful  mule  could  not  walk  out  of  the  corral.  I  pitied 
him ;  but  I  had  to  deliver  that  message. 

I  stayed  at  Wallace  during  the  four  days  it  took  the  com- 
mand to  arrive.  Here  I  was  discharged,  at  my  own  re- 
quest, as  I  wanted  to  go  home.    The  officers  all  said. 


STORY   OF  THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  311 

"Why  not  go  on  to  the  Indian  Territory,  as  it  amounts  to 
$5  a  day  going  and  coming." 

I  said:  "No;  I  told  you  before,  it  was  not  the  five 
dollars  a  day  I  was  after.  It  was  the  protection  of  settlers, 
and  the  love  of  adventure.  Thig  thing  of  herding  In- 
dians with  no  guns  in  their  hands  makes  me  feel  cheap. 
But  Amos  and  Hi.  live  down  there,  and  that  is  all  right." 

After  returning  to  my  home  on  the  Prairie  Dog,  I  re- 
mained there,  putting  on  improvements,  until  the  fall  of 
1880.  Now  here  on  this  creek,  where  you  just  had  your 
swim,  is  forty-five  miles  to  the  Smoky,  south,  where  our 
old  friend  Smoky  Hill  Thompson  used  to  live ;  and  ninety 
miles  north  is  the  Platte,  where  our  leader  in  the  Casa 
Amarilla  battle,  Hank  Campbell,  lived. 

I  liked  this  location  and  decided  to  keep  it  as  my  future 
home.  But,  like  yourself,  I  am  of  a  restless  disposition. 
So  I  rented  out  my  farm  and  went  to  New  Mexico,  and 
was  gone  three  years.    I  was  in  business  in  Raton. 

One  day  Jim  Carson,  a  son  of  Kit,  came  into  my  place 
and  said:  "Mr.  Rees,  my  mother  is  coming  down  from 
Taos  to  visit  some  of  her  Mexican  friends.  She  has  heard 
of  you,  and  would  be  glad  to  see  you." 

You  know  Raton  is  the  old  Willow  Springs  you  used  to 
know  before  the  Santa  Fe  was  built  down  through  Dick 
Hooten's  pass,  in  the  Raton  Mountains.  Well,  just  across 
the  arroyo  is  a  little  Mexican  hamlet,  say  300  yards  from 
Raton  proper.  At  the  time  I  speak  of,  I  met  the  Spanish 
widow  of  the  famous  Eat  Carson,  the  grand  old  scout, 
guide,  and  interpreter.  [He  was  the  man  who  piloted 
John  C.  Fremont  to  the  Pacific  Coast.]  She  was  one  of 
the  best-preserved  old  ladies  I  ever  saw,  sixty-three  years 
of  age;  she  could  talk  both  English  and  Spanish  fluently, 
and  was  a  perfect  sign-talker.    After  nearly  an  hour's 


312   -      THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

talk,  she  said  she  would  like  to  stay  there  if  she  only  had 
money  enough  to  buy  her  a  washtub,  board,  and  some 
soap.  (Poor  soul!  profligate  Jim  had  squandered  her  last 
dollar!)  I  looked  at  her,  and  in  silence  I  asked  myself, 
"What  has  Kit  Carson  done  for  humanity?"  I  went 
across  the  arroyo  and  bought  two  washtubs,  and  boards, 
a  box  of  soap,  and  several  other  articles.  I  think  the  bill 
amounted  to  twenty-odd  dollars.  I  hired  some  Mexi- 
cans to  take  them  to  her.  I  had  a  log  house  with  two 
rooms  built  for  her.  When  told  it  was  hers,  she  said: 
"Oh,  I  can  never  earn  money  enough  to  pay  for  this." 
I  said:  "Mrs.  Carson,  Kit  has  paid  for  this,  through  me, 
for  what  he  has  done  to  open  up  the  West  to  settlers." 

She  moved  in.  In  less  than  two  months  she  had  twelve 
washtubs  busy;  elderly  Mexican  women  at  work;  all 
quiet  and  orderly;  twenty-five  cents  apiece  for  washing 
a  common  woolen  shirt;  and  every  day  all  were  as  busy 
as  could  be.  In  three  months  she  sent  for  me,  and  in- 
sisted that  I  should  tell  her  how  much  money  I  had  paid 
out  for  her.  "I  want  to  pay  it  and  then  tell  you  how 
grateful  I  feel  toward  you."  I  saw  her  meaning,  for  she 
was  a  lady.  1  put  the  price  at  a  sum  far  under  what  I 
knew  it  had  cost  me.  She  opened  a  chest  and  handed 
me  the  money,  saying:  "Mr.  Rees,  only  for  you,  I  do 
not  know  what  I  should  have  done.  I  shall  always  feel 
so  grateful." 

Did  she?    Was  she? 

I  was  taken  down  with  mountain  fever.  The  second 
day  I  became  delirious,  and  finally  unconscious. 

What  did  Mother  Carson  do?  She  sent  four  strong 
Mexicans  to  my  room;  came  herself  with  them.  A  soft 
mattress  was  placed  on  a  door  for  a  litter,  and  I  was  car- 
ried to  her  house,  placed  on  her  own  bed,  and  for  five  days 


STORY   OF   THE    SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  313 

and  nights  that  angel  of  mercy,  this  simple,  dignified 
widow  of  Kit's,  nm^ed  me  back  to  life.  And  when  con- 
sciousness was  restored,  she  was  lying  across  the  foot  of 
the  bed,  not  having  taken  off  her  moccasins  during  that 
long  vigil. 

There  is  a  beauty-spot  picked  out  in  the  '^  Kingdom 
Come''  for  such  noble,  high-minded  women. 

And  now,  John,  I  guess  I  have  told  you  about  all  there 
is  to  say.  You  see  me  now  far  different  from  what  you 
knew  me  in  the  old  days.  Three  years  ago  I  had  a  stroke 
of  paralysis.  That  accounts  for  my  indistinct  articu- 
lation, and  you  are  one  of  the  very  few  that  I  would  talk 
to  about  the  past.  For,  you  know,  you  and  I  have  gone 
through  places  that  it  seems  incredible  to  this  day  and 
generation. 

Yet  you  know  the  Story  of  the  Plains,  especially  the 
old  Southwest  as  we  knew  it  for  years. 


Reader,  there  is  something  more  to  be  said.  I  found 
this  man  Rees  at  the  town  of  Jennings,  five  miles  down 
the  Prairie  Dog  from  his  ranch.  He  is  now  a  broken- 
down  man  jn  body,  but  has  ample  means.  He  is  to-day 
less  than  sixty  years  of  age;  but  he  has  been  a  man  of 
iron.  He  has  dared  and  done  what  the  average  man  of 
to-day  would  shrink  from.  But  here  in  the  quiet  of  his 
home,  where  he  is  surrounded  with  the  Iwcuries  of  life, 
he  pines  for  bufTalo-meat.  He  may  not  have  a  tablet  of 
fame ;  yet  he  has  a  lovable  wife,  two  interesting  daughters, 
and  three  boys:  John  Rees,  twenty-one  years  old,  a 
manly  man;  his  son  Ray,  a  polite  little  fellow  of  twelve; 
and  his  prattling  baby-boy,  Wayne  Solomon  Rees,  three 
years,  who  will  some  day  emulate  his  father,  and  he  is 


314         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

to-day  the  youngest  child  of  an  ex-soldier  of  the  grand  old 
Union  army.  His  honest,  open  countenance,  as  shown 
in  his  picture  in  this  chapter,  could  not  help  but  excite 
the  admiration  of  mankind. 

The  author  congratulates  himself  that  he  has  lived  to 
see  the  day  that  he  could  trot  this  little  tot  on  his  knees, 
in  the  quiet  of  the  Rees  home,  and  while  dancing  him 
would  think  of  the  days  that  his  father  did  deeds  that  were 
noble  and  courageous. 

Reader,  go  into  the  quiet  of  this  home,  as  I  have  done. 
Hear  the  girls  play  up-to-date  music  on  a  fine  piano,  that 
an  indulgent  father  has  purchased  them.  Look  into  John 
Rees's  room  and  see  the  trophy  of  a  Comanche  warrior's 
beaded  buckskin  jacket  that  his  father  brought  home  from 
Texas  ten  years  before  John  was  bom.  Look  at  the 
painting  on  the  wall  of  that  ever-to-be-mysterious  massar 
ere. 

The  first  night  that  I  slept  with  John  Rees  and  awoke 
in  the  morning  at  chicken-crow,  I  lay  there  thinking,  while 
John  was  peacefully  sleeping.  My  memory  carried  me 
back  to  days  when  his  father,  with  a  fortitude  and  courage 
born  of  heroes,  saved  the  lives  of  eighteen  men  from  a 
horrible  death.  Yet  Mr.  Seton  says  we  were  the  dregs 
of  the  border  towns. 

I  wish  to  speak  of  Georgia  Rees:  Her  father  loves  the 
jingle  of  "Marching  Through  Georgia,"  the  old  war-song 
from  '* Atlanta  to  the  Sea;''  and  as  Georgia  plays  this 
inspiring  song  at  her  father's  request,  Sol.  keeps  time  to 
the  music,  by  thumping  his  cane  on  the  floor.  And  that 
is  why  the  author  thinks  he  named  the  baby-girl  Georgia. 


CHAPTER  XIIT. 

Mortimer  N.  Kress  ("Wild  Bill").--His  Heroic  Example  at  the  Bat- 
tle of  Casa  Amarilla. — His  Unselfish  Generosity. — His  Sublime 
Fortitude  in  the  Hour  of  Distress. — He  Stood  as  a  Buffer  Between 
Savagery  and  Civilization — He  is  Geography  Itself. 

SOME  OF  "WILD  BILL'S"  RECOLLECTIONS. 

The  author  visited  him  at  his  home  in  Nebraska,  in  the 
spring  of  1907.  The  noted  hunter,  Indian  fighter,  and 
scout,  Sol.  Rees,  took  me  from  Jennings,  Kansas,  to  the 
home  of  Kress,  near  Hastings,  Nebr.,  generously  defray- 
ing the  expenses.  The  three  of  us  separated  in  Texas 
in  the  spring  of  1878;  and  after  twenty-nine  years  of 
neither  hearing  from  nor  seeing  each  other,  we  held  a  re- 
imion  of  the  "Forlorn  Hope;"  and  it  did  my  heart  good 
to  once  more  meet  this  big,  generous,  warm-hearted 
plainsman  of  the  old  days.  As  I  looked  in  the  face  of 
the  man  who  stood  as  a  buffer  between  the  settlers  and 
wild  Indians  on  the  frontier  of  Nebraska  and  the  west- 
em  border  of  Texas,  my  thoughts  went  back  to  two  par- 
ticular incidents  of  the  many  thrilling  ones  I  had  passed 
through  in  company  with  him. 

The  first  was  at  the  hunters'  fight  with  the  Indians  on 
the  18th  of  March,  1877,  already  described.  All  through 
that  fierce  fight,  he  kept  a  level  head  and  used  a  danger- 
ous gun.  He  tore  away  the  mask  and  showed  the  real 
mettle  and  fiber  of  his  composition.  When  there  would 
be  a  lull  in  the  fight,  or  a  change  of  base  was  made,  Kress 
kept  those  within  his  hearing  livened  up  by  his  dry  humor 
and  seemingly  total  indifference  to  his  surroundings. 

Then  again  on  the  27th,  28th  and  29th  of  July,  already 
alluded  to,  he  divided  up  a  six-pound  powder-can  of  water 

(315) 


316  THE    BORDER   AND   THE   BUFFALO. 


MORTIMER  N.  KRESS. 
(Wild  Bill.) 


STORY   OF  THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  317 

as  generously  as  though  a  river  were  flowing  near  by ;  and 
men  of  his  type  suffered  and  moved  on.  How  thankful 
I  felt  while  at  his  home,  so  beautifully  located  on  the 
banks  of  the  sparkling  waters  of  the  Little  Blue,  to  see  my 
comrade  living  in  a  manor-house,  his  cribs  and  granaries 
groaning  with  the  1906  harvest,  and  surrounded  by  a 
community  that  fairly  pay  him  reverence.  For  they 
know  enough  of  his  past  life  and  the  sacrifices  he  made, 
to  help  make  it  possible  for  his  neighbors  to  have  the 
peaceful,  happy  homes  that  surround  this  once  '^Wild 
Bill."  In  the  country  where  he  resides  he  was  the  first 
settler  on  the  Little  Blue,  having  homesteaded  in  1869. 
He  has  identified  himself  with  that  particular  region  for 
thirty-nine  years;  and  has  seen  the  passing  of  the  over- 
land stage  line,  the  Indian,  and  the  buffalo. 

And  he  is  far  better  equipped  to  write  ''The  Border  and 
the  Buffalo,"  than  myself.  He  is  a  native  of  Pennsyl- 
vania; soldiered  four  years  during  the  Rebellion,  in  the 
First  Pennsylvania  Cavalry.  I  was  closely  identified  with 
him  from  1875  to  1878,  in  Texas,  in  a  common  cause, 
viz.,  "The  destruction  of  the  buffalo,  and  settling  the  wild 
Indian  question,"  which  had  the  approval  of  all  frontier 
army  officers,  regardless  of  the  fact  that  Ernest  Thomp- 
son Seton  said  "the  hunters  were  the  dregs  of  the  border 
towns." 

While  talking  with  Kress  at  his  home  in  regard  to  his 
experience  on  the  29th  and  30th  of  July,  1877,  when  we 
became  demoralized  for  want  of  water,  I  learned  that 
he  and  Jim  Harvey,  our  citizen  captain,  were  in  very 
poor  health  when  we  left  the  Double  Lakes  on  the  27th. 
Here  is  his  own  statement : 

"I  dissent  from  your  version  of  Captain  Nolan  setting 
his  compass  for  the  Double  Lakes.    That  is  what  he  talked 


318 


THE    BORDER   AND   THE    BUFFALO. 


ALENE  KRESS. 


STORY   OF  THE   SOUTHWEST  PLAINS.  319 

of;  but  he  tried  to  go  northeast.  I  had  quite  a  talk  with 
Lieutenant  Cooper  that  morning.  Their  bugler  had  been 
across  there  the  summer  before.  There  were  four  wagons 
in  the  outfit ;  and  that  bugler  convinced  Cooper  and  Nolan 
that  he  could  strike  the  trail  and  follow  it  to  the  Casa 
Amarilla,  Yellow  House  Springs.  I  told  the  lieutenant  it 
would  be  impossible,  as  the  new  grass  had  grown  since 
then  and  the  best  of  trailers  would  fail  to  find  it.  But 
they  started  north  of  northeast,  while  the  lieutenant  and 
I  stood  talking.  I  soon  drew  his  attention  to  the  bugler 
circUng  to  the  east,  and  remarked  that  'he  could  not  fol- 
low any  course;  that  his  officers  should  pay  no  attention 
to  him,  but  strike  a  course  of  their  own.'  And  I  added: 
'As  for  me,  I  am  going  northeast.'  While  we  were  yet 
talking,  the  command  was  going  due  east.  The  lieutenant 
remarked  that  they  were  'like  a  lot  of  sheep  without  a 
leader  or  herder.'  During  this  time  my  horse  started  off 
toward  the  troops,  and  I  walked  four  miles  before  I  over- 
took him.  Benson  caught  him  for  me,  as  he  had  left  you 
boys  and  gone  to  the  soldiers.  By  this  time  the  soldiers 
were  going  southeast.  I  tried  to  get  Benson  to  go  with 
me  toward  the  Casa  Amarilla,  but  he  said  he  was  going 
east.  Poor  fellow!  He  had  a  worse  time  than  any  of 
us. 

"I  started  back,  cutting  off  the  angle.  When  I  met 
Jim  Harvey,  about  four  miles  from  where  I  left  Benson,  he 
told  me  that  Perry  and  George  Williams  were  back  near 
the  place  where  we  dry-camped  the  night  before,  and  he 
could  not  get  them  to  walk.  He  asked  me  to  go  back  with 
him  and  we  would  try  to  get  them  through  in  the  even- 
ing. So  back  we  went.  I  led  my  horse.  Harvey,  Perry, 
and  George  had  each  lost  his  horse  during  the  night.  We 
made  a  shade  for  the  boys  by  digging  holes  in  the  ground 


320         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

with  our '  butcher-knives,  setting  the  stock  of  each  big- 
fifty  in  the  holes,  then  guying  the  muzzles  with  my  lariat. 
We  then  put  blankets  on  top  and  had  a  good  shade  for 
them.     I  think  it  was  now  near  noon,  and  very  hot. 

''After  a  while  George  thought  he  could  travel.  So 
he  and  Harvey  started  on.  I  tried  to  get  Perry  on  my 
horse,  but  he  was  too  much  played  out  to  try  to  help  him- 
self. Great  beads  of  cold  sweat  dropped  from'  my  brow 
while  I  was  trying  to  lift  him  onto  my  horse.  After 
Harvey  and  George  had  gone  about  a  mile,  George  toppled 
over.  Harvey  went  on,  and  met  two  negro  soldiers,  who 
were  returning  from  the  Laguna  Plata  with  water.  They 
gave  Harvey  one  full  canteen,  rode  on,  and  gave  George 
one;  then  came  onto  Perry  and  me.  The  soldiers,  who 
had  several  canteens,  divided  with  us. 

''About  3  p.  M.  we  were  all  four  together,  the  soldiers 
having  passed  on  seeking  their  command.  As  the  shades 
of  night  came  on,  we  dropped  to  sleep.  But  it  was  a 
troubled  one.  Thirst  ever  haunted  us.  It  was  thirst, 
water,  thirst  and  water,  until  it  was  all  gone,  and  still  we 
were  all  in  a  horrible  condition.  That  same  night  along 
toward  morning  it  rained  some,  where  we  were,  but  the 
rain  was  heavier  north  and  east  of  us.  We  spread  out 
the  blanket  and  caught  a  few  sips  of  water. 

''At  dayUght  I  started  on  to  look  for  water.  I  could 
hear  a  great  roaring  to  the  north,  while  it  was  sprinkling 
where  we  were.  I  went  afoot,  hoping  to  find  a  depression 
or  lagoon  containing  water.  I  went  much  farther  than  I 
thought,  or  had  intended  to  go,  and  was  on  the  point  of 
turning  back,  when  I  saw  a  lagoon  with  water  in  it  about 
two  hundred  yards  from  me.  As  I  started  toward  it  I 
looked.  While  looking  to  the  east  a  long  way  off  I  saw 
two  men  on  horseback.'    I  fired  my  big-fifty  gun,  and  at 


STORY   OF  THE   SOUTHWEST  PLAINS.  321 

the  same  time,  walked  backward  and  forward.  I  fired 
three  shots  before  attracting  their  attention.  I  saw  them 
stop,  then  start  toward,  me.  When  they  came  up  it  was 
Dick  Wilkinson  and  Al.  Waite.  They  said:  'We  could 
not  hear  your  gun,  but  saw  the  smoke,  we  are  truly  glad 
to  see  you  alive.  How  and  where  are  Harvey  and  the 
other  boys?  You  and  Harvey  concerned  us  the  most,  as 
you  were  both  very  sick  men  when  we  left  the  Double 
Lakes.' 

"I  told  them  the  others  were  0.  K.  They  both  dis- 
mounted, and  we  all  went  down  to  the  lagoon.  They 
handed  me  a  quart  cup  to  drink  from,  and  I  drank  a-plenty. 
The  boys  emptied  the  water  out  of  the  green  antelope- 
hide  they  had  been  carrying  all  night,  and  refilled  it  with 
rain-water,  and  we  started  back  to  where  the  other  three 
men  were.  We  had  ncH  proceeded  far  when  I  said :  '  Dick, 
ride  on,  and  we  will  stay  here.  There  is  no  use  of  us  all 
going  over  the  ground  twice.'  So  on  he  went.  Soon  a 
shot  was  fired  by  the  boys,  who  had  become  uneasy  about 
me.  Dick  heard  it,  and  had  no  trouble  in  riding  to 
them. 

"Wheh  they  got  back  to  the  lagoon  and  had  quenched 
their  thirst,  it  commenced  to  rain,  and  there  was  quite  a 
shower.  Perry  began  grumbling  about  getting  so  wet. 
This  exasperated  me  so  much  that,  weak  as  I  was,  I  threw 
him  into  the.  lagoon.  We  made  some  coffee  here,  and  ate 
some  bread  and  antelope-meat  which  the  relief  boys  had 
brought  out.  Then  we  started  on.  I  told  Perry  to  ride 
my  horse,  and  Jim  Harvey  and  I  walked  along  together. 
As  darkness  was  approaching  we  were  nearing  the  Casa 
Amarilla,  when  Perry,  who  was  always  in  the  rear,  dis- 
mounted, and  my  horse  wandered  away  from  him,  and  I 


322         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

never  heard  of  him  or  the  saddle  again.    But  Perry  did 
get  to  camp.    Now,  Cook,  you  know  the  rest." 

Yes,  the  author  feels  that  he  knows  something  of  the 
entire  proceedings  of  the  ninety  days  we  were  in  that  sun- 
baked region.  And  I  then  felt  I  was  in  the  company  of  a 
brave  man. 

Reader,  he  is  to-day  a  living  example  of  human  forti- 
tude. Chivalrous,  charitable,  jovial,  kind  and  considerate. 
He  was  geography  itself,  having  roamed  over  the  country 
from  the  Big  Horn  to  southern  Texas,  and  from  the  Mis- 
souri river  to  the  Rocky  Mountains. 

The  American  Desert,  as  it  was  marked  on  the  old  maps, 
faded  away  and  became  the  homes  of  multiplied  thousands 
under  his  personal  observation.  Perhaps  no  man  has  seen 
a  greater  advance  of  civilization,  in  the  same  length  of 
time,  than  this  old  plainsman,  whose  picture,  together 
with  his  daughter  Alene,  will  be  found  in  this  chapter. 


STORY   OF   THE    SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  323 


BILL  KRESS'S  YEARNINGS  FOR  THE 
BUFFALO  RANGE. 

1.  It  comes  to  me  often  in  silence, 

When  the  firelight  glimmers  low, 
And  the  black,  uncertain  shadows 

Seem  wraiths  of  long  ago. 
Always  with  a  throb  of  heart-ache, 

That  thrills  each  pulsive  vein, 
Comes  that  old,  unquiet  longing. 

For  the  "Buffalo  Range"  again. 

2.  I  am  sick  of  the  din  of  cities, 

And  tlie  faces  cold  and  strange, 
I  feel  the  warmth  and  welcome 

Where  my  yearning  fancies  range 
Back  to  the  old  border  homestead. 

With  an  aching  sense  of  pain, 
I  dream  of  that  old  chasing 

On  the  Buffalo  Range  again. 

3.  Far  out  in  the  distant  shadows 

Is  the  buffalo  crash  and  din, 
And,  slowly  the  cloudy  shadows 

Come  drifting,  drifting  in ; 
Sobbing  the  night-wind  murmurs 

To  the  splash  of  the  Texas  rain ; 
Come  back  to  me  the  memories 

Of  the  Buffalo  Hunt  again. 

4.  To  me  those  memories,  "  thus  Muse," 

That  never  may  die  away. 
It  seems  the  hands  of  angels. 

On  a  mystic  harp  at  play. 
Have  touched  with  a  yearning  sadness 

On  a  beautiful,  broken  strain. 
To  which  is  my  fond  heart  yearning 

For  the  Buffalo  Chase  again. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

M.  V.  DAILY, 

Soldier,  Indian  Fighter,  Buffalo-Hunter,  and  Homesteader. 

His  picture  shows  the  loss  of  his  trigger  finger ;  done  by 
Missouri  bushwhackers.  Yet  he  trained  the  middle  fin- 
ger to  pull  trigger,  and  told  the  author,  in  1907,  that  he 
could  shoot  just  as  well  as  ever. 

When  the  wild  plains  Indians,  armed  with  lances,  bows 
and  arrows,  attacked  a  stage-coach,  in  1865,  on  the  Ar- 
kansas river,  this  man  Daily  was  driving  the  six  mules 
drawing  the  coach,  which  had  sixty  arrows  imbedded*  in  it ; 
and  a  lance  that  was  thrust  at  him  by  a  big  Kiowa,  went 
between  his  right  arm  and  body,  passing  through  into 
the  coach.  He  got  his  coach  into  Larned,  and  himself 
unhurt. 

He  homesteaded  in  Thomas  county,  Kansas;  hunted 
buffalo;  built  sod  houses;  broke  prairie;  went  through 
the  drought  era ;  saw  the  country  nearly  depopulated  on 
account  of  successive  failures  of  crops;  witnessed  the 
change  in  climatic  conditions;  the  hot  winds  abate;  the 
coming  of  rainfall;  and  the  return  of  starved-out  settlers, 
bringing  with  them  people  and  capital.  And  to-day  the 
country  is  well  settled  with  a  happy,  prosperous  people. 


(324) 


STORY   OF  THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  325 


MART  DALEY. 


MISCELLANEOUS  STORIES 

OF 

BUFFALO  LAND. 


MISCELLANOUS  STORIES. 


STAMPEDE  OF  THE  WHEEL-OXEN. 


The  month  of  February,  1875j  when  I  was  in  the  employ 
of  Charles  Hart,  skinning  buffaloes,  I  had  an  experience 
which  was  both  amusing  and  embarrassing. 

As  we  were  en  route  down  from  the  Panhandle  of  Texas 
to  the  Brazos  hunting-grounds,  we  passed  by  an  abandoned 
Government  wagon.  It  was  on  a  sandy  stretch  of  ground 
between  Sputh  Pease  river  and  a  prong  of  the  Salt  Fork 
of  the  Brazos.  After  we  had  arrived  where  we  did  our 
principal  hunting  that  winter  and  spring,  Hadley,  the 
freighter  (he  who  afterwards  proved  to  be  a  disappoint- 
ment) said  to  me  one  evening  that  he  could  skin  as  many 
buffalo  as  I  could,  and  that  if  I  would  take  his  yoke  of 
wheel-oxen,  go  back  and  bring  in  that  wagon  we  had  seen 
on  our  way  down,  he  would  skin  the  buffaloes  in  my  stead, 
and  have  the  number  of  hides  accredited  to  me.  I  told 
him  I  would  sleep  over  the  proposition.  I  went  to  bed, 
and  reasoned  the  matter  out  thus : 

That  it  was  not  over  fifteen  miles  back  to  where  the  wagon 
was.  It  had  a  good  tongue  in  it.  It  stood  up  on  four 
good  wheels.  When  we  passed  it  it  looked  as  if  it  had 
been  in  that  one  place  as  much  as  a  year.  I  could  make 
the  round  trip  in  two  days.  Those  oxen  were  large,  very 
strong,  in  good  flesh,  well  broken,  and  perfectly  gentle. 
In  view  of  all  the  facts,  I  decided  to  make  the  trip.  Ac- 
cordingly, the  next  morning  I  told  Hadley  to  yoke  up  his 

(329) 


330         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

oxen,  give  me  a  log-chain  and  a  box  of  Frazer^s  axle- 
grease,  and  I  would  make  the  trip ;  would  start  as  soon  as 
breakfast  was  over. 

I  took  three  blankets  and  a  wagon-sheet  and  folded 
them  soldier-fashion,  and  placed  a  hatchet  and  frying- 
pan  on  the  fold;  also  took  a  bag  of  salt,  some  ground 
coffee,  about  four  pounds  of  bacon,  three  pones  of  bread, 
baked  in  a  Dutch  oven,  a  tin  cup,  a  few  extra  cartridges; 
rolled  the  whole  outfit  up  in  the  blankets,  laid  this  roll 
on  top  of  the  yoke  between  the  bows,  wrapped  the  chain 
around  the  bundle,  yoke  and  all ;  then  with  a  lariat  se- 
curely bound  everything  fast,  tied  on  a  coffee-pot,  and 
was  off  to  bring  in  that  abandoned  wagon. 

Now  there  was  not  a  settler's  home  within  eighty  miles 
of  the  camp  I  just  left,  except  what  was  known  as  the 
Mathews  Ranch,  on  California  creek,  sixty  miles  south- 
east of  our  camp.  The  morning  being  quite  chilly,  I 
wore  a  heavy  short  coat.  I  was  leaving  camp  just  as  the 
sun  appeared  above  the  horizon. 

As  the  early  forenoon  wore  away,  it  became  quite  warm. 
I  stopped  the  oxen,  took  off  my  coat,  and  fastened  it  to 
the  pack  on  the  yoke.  Starting  again,  I  walked  behind 
the  patient,  plodding  old  oxen  for  an  hour  or  more,  when 
we  approached  some  breaks.  At  this  time  I  judged  I 
was  much  more  than  half  the  distance  from  camp  to  where 
I  was  going.  Presently  the  oxen  raised  their  heads, 
sniffing  the  air;  they  turned  a  little  to  the  left  and  in- 
creased their  speed.  I  knew  at  once  they  had  winded 
water.  I  followed  after  them,  but  upon  going  a  few  rods 
farther  the  oxen  broke  into  a  trot,  and  about  the  time  they 
did  so  we  were  on  the  brink  of  a  downward  slope,  and  close 
to  a  large  pool  of  water,  just  west  of  us,  with  a  bald  low 
butte  on  the  west  side  of  the  water.     As  the  oxen  trotted 


STORY  OF  THE  SOUTHWEST  PLAINS.  331 

faster,  I  decreased  my  gait  to  a  slow  walk.  I  saw  the 
oxen  rush  into  the  water,  belly-deep,  stop,  and  commence 
drinking.  I  was  nearly  200  yards  behind  them.  My 
cartridge-belt  was  chafing  my  hips.  I  stopped  to  buckle 
the  belt  another  hole  tighter,  when  all  at  once  about  100 
buffaloes  came  thundering  down  the  slope  from  the  north- 
east, in  a  mad  rush  for  the  water.  Seemingly  I  was  not 
noticed  at  all  by  them,  but  before  they  got  fairly  into  the 
water  the  old  "whoa-haws"  (as  the  Indians  called  oxen) 
bolted  and  whirled  to  the  southwest, — and  away  they 
went,  out  of  the  water,  up  the  steep  slope  which  joined 
onto  the  butte  jutting  down  to  the  water.  It  seemed 
that  at  the  same  instant  the  oxen  stampeded,  the  buffalo 
whirled  around  towards  a  northwest  direction;  and  off 
they  went,  up  the  slope,  on  the  north  end  of  the  square 
bluff  butte,  but  not  until  I  had  noticed  that  the  velocity 
of  motion  of  the  rear  of  the  herd,  by  their  sudden  impact, 
had  knocked  down  several  of  their  number  at  the  edge 
of  the  water.  I  stood  looking  at  this  spectacular  scene 
in  amused  wonderment.  It  all  occurred  so  suddenly  that 
I  remember  laughing  outright. 

But  the  fun  was  gone  almost  as  soon  as  oxen  and  buffa- 
loes. I  hurried  to  the  top  of  the  slope,  up  which  the  oxen 
ran,  and  saw  they  were  fully  three-quarters  of  a  mile  away, 
still  running,  and  headed  toward  a  band  of  buffaloes  that 
were  feeding  about  a  mile  beyond  them.  I  followed  the 
oxen,  and  soon  got  into  a  depression  of  the  ground  where 
I  could  see  out  but  a  short  distapce.  When  I  came  out 
upon  higher  ground,  I  saw  the  oxen  and  three  separate 
small  herds  of  buffalo  all  running  west, — by  which  time 
the  oxen  were  fully  two  miles  ahead  of  me. 

I  slowed  down  to  a  moderately  good  walking  gait,  and 
set  in  for  a  siege.     I  was  very  thirsty,  and  hungry,  too. 


332         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

To  my  left  about  one-fourth  mile  were  some  stunted  brush 
and  two  cottonwood  trees,  in  the  head  of  a  draw  that  put 
into  the  creek  our  camp  was  on.  I  went  to  this  in  hopes 
of  finding  water.  Upon  arriving  there  I  found  a  little 
seepage  spring.  Using  my  hands,  I  dug  the  mud  and 
trash  all  out  until  I  had  a  hole  some  eight  or  ten  inches 
deep  and  a  foot  in  diameter.  I  then  sat  down  with  my 
back  against  one  of  the  cottonwood  trees  and  rested  a  few 
moments.  When  I  saw  the  water-hole  was  full  of  water, 
I  took  a  good  long  draught  at  it,  such  as  it  was,  and  started 
on  after  the  oxen. 

Wanting  a  chew  of  tobacco,  it  suddenly  occurred  to  me 
that  that  hunter's  luxury  was  in  one  of  my  coat  pockets. 
I  kept  on  west,  heading  for  a  hill  in  the  direction  the  oxen 
had  gone.  When  I  reached  the  top  of  the  hill  the  oxen 
were  nowhere  in  sight.  Here  I  had  a  good  view  of  the 
country  in  general  for  several  miles  around.  But  there 
were  many  dips,  spurs  and  ravines.  I  could  neither  see 
into  nor  behind  them.  I  sat  down  to  rest  and  range  the 
country  over  with  my  eyes,  hoping  to  catch  a  glimpse  of 
the  old  oxen.     I  remained  there  until  the  sun  was  low. 

Just  southeast  of  this  hill  was  the  extreme  head  of  the 
creek  our  camp  was  on,  and  its  course  was  to  the  south- 
east, and,  as  I  judged,  about  ten  miles  down.  About 
three  miles  down  the  stream  was  quite  a  clump  of  cotton- 
wood trees. 

My  thoughts  were  now  to  look  for  the  oxen's  trail,  and 
judging  from  where  I  then  was  and  where  I  had  last  seen 
the  '^whoa-haws,"  I  thought  I  could  go  to  near  the  place. 
I  then  started  back  that  way,  and  after  going  a  mile  and  a 
half  or  thereabouts,  I  commenced  to  describe  a  large  circle, 
intently  looking  for  the  trail.  But  upon  coming  around 
to  the  starting-point  I  failed  to  find  any  sign  of  a  trail. 


STORY   OF  THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  333 

By  this  time  the  sun  was  setting.  Then  I  thought, 
"Down  the  creek  our  camp  is  on  I  will  go."  Accordingly, 
I  started  to  the  creek  in  a  southeasterly  direction  from 
where  I  then  was.  I  came  to  the  creek  almost  a  mile 
above  the  clump  of  cottonwoods  before  mentioned.  It 
was  then  as  dark  as  it  would  get,  that  beautiful  February 
night.  The  sky  was  as  clear  as  a  bell,  and  the  moon  had 
just  fulled.  On  my  near  approach  to  the  trees  I  could 
hear  the  last  quiet  "quit"  and  flutter  of  wild  turkeys 
settling  themselves  for  the  night's  roost.  Cautiously  slip- 
ping up,  with  the  roost  between  myself  and  the  moon,  I 
lay  down  and  peered  up  at  trees  full  of  wild  turkeys. 
The  evening  was  calm  and  still.  After  watching  them 
some  little  time  I  rose  up  and  walked  under  some  of  the 
trees  they  were  roosting  upon.  I  could  and  would  have 
shot  one  and  broiled  it,  only  for  the  reason  that  we  had 
tried  one  in  the  very  camp  on  this  same  creek  that  my 
companions  were  now  camped  upon,  a  few  miles  below. 
But  that  turkey  was  so  bitter  from  eating  •china-berries 
that  it  was  unpalatable ;  and  I  supposed  that  all  turkeys 
were  alike  in  that  region.  I  disturbed  them  as  I  passed 
under  the  trees,  for  they  started  the  alarm,  and  kept  up 
that  excited  "quit!  quit!  quit!"  uttering  it  more  rapidly 
until  it  was  answered  back  from  one  end  of  the  roost  to 
the  other. 

I  passed  on  down  the  creek  about  a  mile  below  the 
roost,  on  my  way  to  camp  and  companions,  whom  I  left 
the  morning  before,  and  was  now  pretty  tired  and  hungry, 
and  feeling  very  cheap  to  be  compelled  to  go  back  and 
report  that  I  did  not  find  the  wagon  but  lost  the  yoke  of 
oxen.  Suddenly  I  heard  a  noise  to  my  right  between  my- 
self and  the  creek.  Upon  stooping  down  I  saw  five  buffa- 
loes, not  more  than  seventy-five  yards  from  me.     Three 


334         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

were  lying  down,  the  other  two  were  standing,  one  just 
behind  the  other.  The  rear-most  one  was  the  smaller 
of  the  two.  I  sat  flat  upon  the  ground,  pointed  the  gun 
at  the  hind  one,  and  tried  to  draw  a  bead.  But,  bright 
as  the  night  was,  there  was  no  accuracy.  I  would  raise 
and  lower  the  gun,  and  finally  I  fired.  At  this  time  I  was 
west  of  them.  They  all  broke  and  ran  east  down  the  creek. 
I  rose  up  and  pointed  .the  gun  in  the  direction  they  were 
going,  and  fired  again.  I  then  trotted  on  after  them  some 
100  yards,  stooped  down  and  skylighted  them,  and  saw, 
off  to  the  right  of  the  others  and  in  their  rear,  that  one  had 
halted.  I  lay  down  flat,  and  soon  the  buffalo  started  to 
move  off,  but  after  reeling  and  staggering  for  a  few  rods 
it  fell  over;  and  then  I  was  sure  I  had  given  it  a  mortal 
shot.  Waiting  some  minutes,  I  crawled  up  close,  with 
the  carcass  between  the  moon  and  myself,  when  I  observed 
it  was  dead. 

It  must  have  been  between  8  and  9  o'clock  p.  m.  by  this 
time.  Now,  I  thought,  I  have  good  meat  and  will  have  a 
roast.  So,  laying  my  Sharp's  44  on  the  short  buffalo- 
grass  and  taking  my  butcher-knife  from  the  scabbard  on 
the  cartridge-belt,  I  cut  out  the  hump  that  lay  upper- 
most, and  started  for  the  creek.  After  coming  to  the 
stream  proper,  which  stood  in  shallow  pools,  I  followed 
down  some  distance  and  came  to  some  stunted  cotton- 
woods  and  hackberry.  Here,  too,  was  |a  wild-turkey 
roost.  I  stalked  boldly  along  and  came  to  a  fallen  dead 
Cottonwood,  laid  the  buffalo  hump  on  the  small  log,  and 
proceeded  to  build  a  fire.  All  the  matches  I  left  camp  with 
were  in  a  match-box  in  my  inside  coat  pocket  with  the 
oxen.  But  I  had  a  gun.  Taking  the  bullet  out  of  a  shell 
with  my  teeth,  I  emptied  all  but  a  little  of  the  powder 
out  of  the  shell,  and  after  cutting  out  a  piece  of  my  cotton 


STORY   OF  THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  335 

handkerchief  I  proceeded  to  gather  dry  tinder  from  the 
lower  side  of  the  log.  Then,  after  getting  some  dry  twigs 
and  putting  all  in  shape  of  a  rat's  nest  against  the  butt 
end  of  the  log  on  the  ground,  I  held  the  muzzle  of  the  gun 
close  to  the  cotton  rag  that  lay  in  this  tinder  nest,  and 
fired  the  charge.  I  got  down  on  my  knees,  and  soon  I 
had  fanned  the  ignited  cotton  into  a  blaze,  and  in  a  short 
time  I  had  a  fine  fire  to  cook  my  buffalo-steak  by. 

As  I  approached  the  place  I  had  waked  up  the  turkeys, 
and  when  I  began  breaking  the  twigs  and  dead  limbs  they 
flew  in  every  direction.  They  did  all  of  their  noisy  ''quit, 
quit,  quit,"  and  sputtering,  before  they  flew,  but  after 
they  left  their  perches  all  one  could  hear  was  the  flapping 
of  their  wings.  Then  all  was  silence  so  far  as  the  turkeys 
were  concerned. 

I  now  sharpened  some  long  green  sticks,  and  slicing  the 
meat  across  the  grain,  I  took  those  long  slices  and  impaled 
them  on  the  sticks,  as  one  would  take  up  long  stitches. 
Then  pushing  the  other  end  of  the  stick  into  the  ground 
at  an  angle  of  about  45  degrees,  close  to  the  heat  of  the 
fire,  I  let  the  meat  broil.  When  the  main  fire  burned  down, 
I  gathered  the  hot  embers  in  little  heaps  and  placed  shces 
of  meat  upon  them  to  broil  also ;  and  had  I  been  fortunate 
enough  to  have  a  little  salt,  'twould  have  been  a  feast 
for  a  congressman, — ^yea,  a  President.  As  it  was,  the 
rich  juicy  broil  and  roast  were  simply  delicious,  very 
palatable  and  strengthening. 

After  eating  I  lay  down  and  slept  soundly  at  first,  but 
jroze  out  as  the  common  expression  is  sometimes  used. 
Then  I  got  up  and  started  on  down  the  creek.  I  had  not 
gone  over  a  mile,  until  in  front  of  me  and  on  my  left  I 
noticed  a  peculiar-looking  object.  Lying  down  to  sky- 
light it,  to  my  great  surprise  and  delight  I  saw  it  was  the 


336         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

two  old  work-oxen.  They  were  as  innocent,  docile  and 
contented  as  if  they  were  in  some  barnyard  in.  eastern 
Kansas  instead  of  sly  old  runaways.  As  I  walked  up  to 
them  they  arose  and  stretched  themselves  just  as  if  they 
had  had  an  all-night's  rest.  They  had  turned  in  towards 
this  creek  east  of  the  circle  I  had  made  the  evening  before, 
and  I  had  walked  over  their  trail  the  day  before  when 
going  west  towards  the  hill  spoken  of  while  I  was  going 
from  where  I  scooped  the  mud  out  of  the  seepy  spring. 
All  of  which  accounts  for  my  not  finding  them  the  previous 
day.  Their  animal  instinct  taught  them  where  our  camp 
was,  and  after  getting  over  their  stampede  fright  and 
terror  they  calmed  down  and  turned  for  camp.  And  when 
in  the  early  morning  I  accidentally  ran  across'  them,  my 
surprise  was  great.  I  first  untied  my  coat  and  put  it  on, 
and  took  a  chew  of  tobacco.  The  pack  on  the  yoke  was 
yet  taut  and  safe — thanks  to  my  little  experience  in  learn- 
ing both  the  diamond  and  Texas  hitch  in  the  mountains 
of  New  Mexico.  The  only  thing  missing  was  the  coffee- 
pot. It  had  been  tied  with  a  whang  string  to  the  outside 
of  the  pack,  and  had  come  loose  and  lost  off  somewhere. 
I  drove  the  oxen  down  to  the  creek,  where  there  was  a 
china-wood  grove,  unpacked  my  outfit,  tied  one  end  of 
the  lariat  around  the  near  ox's  horns,  and  snubbed  them 
up  to  a  china-wood  tree.  I  then  proceeded  to  build  a  fire 
and  cook  breakfast.  By  this  time  it  was  broad  daylight. 
Unrolling  my  pack,  I  took  out  the  bacon,  sHced  off  some, 
took  the  frying-pan,  went  down  to  the  bank  of  the  creek  to 
a  water  pool,  scooped  the  pan  full  of  water,  came  back 
to  camp,  and  after  filling  the  tin  cup  I  put  the  shces  of 
bacon  in  the  pan  and  placed  it  on  the  fire  to  parboil.  I 
now  went  to  the  water  again  and  washed  my  face  and  hands 
thoroughly.     When  the  bacon  was  parboiled  and  fried, 


STORY   OF  THE   SOUTHWEST  PLAINS.  337 

I  split  open  one  of  the  cakes  of  bread  laid  the  slices  of  meat 
on  one  half  and  poured  the  meat-fryings  on  the  other. 
Then,  heating  the  frjdng-pan  very  hot,  I  poured  the  cold 
water  from  the  tin  cup  into  the  pan,  and  rinced  it  out. 
Then  filling  the  pan  again  with  water  from  the  pool,  I  soon 
had  me  some  good  strong  coffee. 

After  eating  my  breakfast,  I  lay  down  a  while  on  my 
bedding,  and  by  the  time  the  sun  was  an  hour  high  was 
again  on  my  way  after  the  abandoned  wagon.  Looking 
down  the  creek  our  camp  was  on,  after  I  had  left  the  creek, 
and  getting  on  a  rise  in  the  land,  I  could  see  very  plainly 
a  gypsum  bluff  near  our  camp,  and  not  more  than  three 
miles  down  the  creek.  I  now  reasoned  that  from  where 
I  was  it  was  twelve  or  fourteen  miles  to  the  wagon,  and  I 
would  have  to  take  a  little  east  by  north  course,  which 
I  now  did,  and  traveled  until  the  sun  had  passed  the 
meridian.  When  I  finally  came  in  sight  of  the  wagon, 
about  two  miles  off  to  the  northwest  of  the  way  I  was  then 
going,  there  was  a  bunch  of  china- wood,  straight  north, 
and  some  water-holes  by  them,  where  we  had  nooned  the 
day  we  passed  the  lone  wagon.  To  this  spot  I  went. 
Now  I  was  little  less  than  half  a  mile  from  the  wagon.  I 
took  off  the  pack  from  the  yoke,  unyoked  the  oxen,  watered 
them,  lariatted  the  near  ox  near  by,  and  got  some  dinner. 
I  had  killed  a  cottontail  rabbit  about  the  middle  of  the 
forenoon.  This  I  stewed  in  the  frying-pan,  with  some 
thin  slices  of  bacon  added. 

After  dinner  I  rested  for  an  hour  or  more,  then  yoked 
up  the  oxen,  and  drove  them  out  to  bring  the  wagon  to 
this  place  for  the  night.  After  getting  there  and  hitch- 
ing onto  the  wagon  I  found  it  hard  to  budge.  The  wheels 
were  nearly  all  set.  They  were  gummed.  But  I  geed  and 
hawed  until  I  finally  got  all  the  wheels  to  rolling,  and 


338         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

got  back  to  my  temporary  camp  all  right.  I  stopped  the 
wagon  on  solid  ground;  then  with  the  hatchet  I  tapped 
the  taps  until  I  got  them  loose,  and  by  jumping  the  wheels 
I  greased  the  wagon.  That  night  I  slept  in  the  wagon- 
box  with  one  blanket  and  part  of  the  wagon-sheet  under 
me  and  the  other  two  blankets  and  half  the  wagon-sheet 
over  me,  using  my  coat  for  a  pillow.  And  there  alone  in 
that  wild-game  land  I  felt  perfectly  secure,  for  as  yet  we 
gave  no  thought  to  the  Indians. 

The  next  morning  I  made  me  a  wagon-seat  of  china- 
wood  poles,  placed  all  my  bedding  upon  it  for  a  cushion^ 
and  that  same  evening  I  had  rejoined  my  companions,  with 
the  wagon  pulled  in  at  last  by  my  runaway  oxen. 


FAVORITE  HUNTING-GROUNDS. 


Many  hunters  had  their  favorite  hunting-grounds  when 
the  killing  was  at  its  height;  during  the  years  1876-7. 
Frequently,  when  several  outfits  would  chance  to  meet 
at  some  regular  camping-ground  en  route  to  and  from  the 
great  game  park,  tjiey  would  discuss  the  variety  and  quan- 
tity of  game  at  such-and-such  places.  But  what  I  saw  in 
what  are  now  Howard  and  Mitchell  counties,  in  Texas,  will 
ever  be  indelibly  impressed  upon  my  mind. 

It  was  on  the  Red  Fork  of  the  Colorado  and  its  tributaries. 
The  time  was  the  fall  and  early  winter  of  1877.  For  two 
months  a  man  named  Cox  and  myself  hunted  together. 
I  did  the  killing,  and  roamed  around  a  good  deal  on  horse- 
back. The  first  month  the  buffalo  were  scattering,  and 
not  very  plentiful,  the  first  three  weeks;  but  during  all 
this  time  wild  turkeys  were  so  numerous  that  no  atten- 
tion was  paid  to  them  at  all.  Bear  were  plentiful.  Deer 
were  in  bands  of  from  two  to  fifty.  Here  were  the  musk 
hog,  beaver,  otter,  mink,  polecat,  coyote,  and  prairie 
wolves.  Panther  were  very  numerous,  and  one  day  I  met 
a  hunter  with  what  he  called  a  mountain  lion  hide.  He 
had  killed  the  animal  early  that  morning  in  some  rough 
breaks  on  the  north  side  of  the  Red  Fork.  I  called  it  a 
cougar-hide ;  and  if  there  is  any  difference  between  the  two, 
I  never  could  distinguish  it.  This  hunter  told  me  he  saw  a 
large  buck  antelope  kill  a  rattlesnake  that  morning.  Said 
he  watched  the  unequal  fight  from  a  distance  of  150  yards. 

He  asked  me  if  I  had  been  at  the  Hackberry  holes.  I 
told  him  no. 

(339) 


340         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

''Well/'  he  said,  ''you  go  there,  and  forever  afterwards 
you  can  tell  fish  stories.'' 

He  told  me  where  to  find  them  after  he  had  described  the 
place  to  me ;  on  that  same  day  I  rode  to  these  holes.  They 
were  a  wonderful  sight — one  link  after  another,  like  a 
chain  of  long,  oblong,  clear  water-holes'.  Some  were  thirty 
feet  in  depth,  as  I  learned  afterwards. 

I  followed  these  holes  up  to  the  Divide  between  the  Red 
Fork  and  North  Concho  Divide,  and  there  near  the  sum- 
mit were  the  famous  Hackberry  Springs.  They  boldly 
and  strongly  broke  out  of  the  hillside,  and  rushed  down 
into  the  flat  towards  the  Colorado  river.  It  was  clear 
cold  water,  and  seemed  to  me  to  be  non-mineralized.  I 
was  charmed  with  the  spot,  and  wanted  the  satisfaction 
and  pleasure  of  once  camping  upon  the  Hackberry. 

I  went  back  down  the  stream,  passing  by  some  five  or 
six  of  the  deep-blue  oblong  water-holes,  and  noticed  that 
every  one  of  them  fairly  teemed  with  fish.  They  were 
mostly  the  blue,  forked-tail  channel  catfish. 

I  hurried  to  camp,  some  seven  miles  away  and  told  a 
"fish  story."  Cox  had  an  Irish  Catholic  brother-in-law 
with  him  in  camp,  who  said:  "Good!  To-morrow  is  Fri- 
day.    Let  us  pull  for  there  and  fish  and  feast." 

Early  the  next  morning  we  were  on  the  route  for  that 
place.  We  reached  our  destination  about  9  a.  m.,  pitched 
our  camp  among  some  chittim-wood  trees,  and  went  to 
fishing, — each  fellow  fishing  from  a  different  water-hole. 
We  used  the  liver  from  a  large  fat  deer  we  had  killed  on  our 
way  to  the  fishing-grounds.  I  did  not  have  a  timepiece, 
but  I  don't  think  I  had  fished  to  exceed  ten  minutes  when 
I  quit  and  started  for  camp,  about  200  yards  away.  I  had 
caught  five  catfish.  The  smallest  weighed  2^  pounds  and 
the  largest  one  9  pounds. 


STORY  OF  THE   SOUTHWEST  PLAINS.  341 

I  dressed  the  catch  and  was  building  the  camp-fire,  when 
Cox  came  in  with  seven  fish  ranging  from  IJ  to  12  pounds 
each.  Soon  Dennis  Ryan  came  in  with  four  of  a  nearly- 
uniform  size,  weighing  at  the  top  notch,  all  four  of  them, 
24  pounds. 

We  camped  here  several  days.  On  the  third  day  after 
coming  to  this  camp  I  had  ridden  west  some  two  miles 
and  sighted  a  band  of  buffalo,  out  of  which  I  killed  twelve, 
— all  good  robe  hides. 

On  coming  into  camp  I  observed  the  wagon  and  team 
gone.  My  first  thought  was  that  Cbx  and  Ryan  had  heard 
my  shooting,  hitched  up,  and  gone  out  to  skin  the  buffa- 
loes they  thought  I  had  killed.  I  saw  the  bedding  all 
rolled  up  and  the  ammunition-box  on  top  of  it,  and  a  piece 
of  paper  fastened  to  the  box.  Upon  looking  closely  I 
saw  it  was  a  note  from  Cox  saying: 

"  We  cilled  threa  barr.  One  old  shee  and  two  cubs 
comin  yearlins  we  gone  arter  the  mete  and  hides  don't  be 
frade.— J.  Cox." 

I  got  me  some  dinner.  Took  the  label  off  a  baking- 
powder  can  and  wrote  on  the  blank  side  of  it : 

''Killed  twelve  buffaloes.  Gone  to  skin  them.  Come 
a  due  west  course.'' 

This  note  I  attached  to  a  fishing-pole  and  fastened  the 
pole  to  the  ammunition-box,  and  struck  out  for  my  kill- 
ing. I  had  skinned  nine  of  the  carcasses;  the  sun  was 
low,  and  I  Was  nearly  four  miles  from  camp,  when  a  man 
rode  up  to  me  and  notified  me  that  I  was  on,  his  range. 

I  asked  him  where  his  camp  was. 

He  said,  "At  Agua  Grande"  (the  big  springs  of  the 
Colorado). 

I  then  told  him  that  my  camp  was  on  Hackberry. 
"Now,"  said  I,  "I  have  been  to  the  Big  Springs  and  you 


342         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

are  fully  twelv^  miles  from  your  camp.  I  am  about  three 
and  a  half  or  four  miles  from  mine.  It  doesn't  make  any 
difference  how  long  each  of  us  has  been  encamped  at  each 
place;  these  buffaloes  are  nearer  my  camp  than  yours. 
Besides,  I  got  to  them  first.'' 

Then  I  asked  him  if  that  was  satisfactory.  He  was  yet 
on  his  horse,  about  twenty  feet  from  me.  He  ignored  my 
question,  but  asked  me  who  I  was  and  where  I  came  from. 
I  told  him  my  name  and  how  long  I  had  been  on  the  Range. 
That  I  came  from  the  Staked  Plains  trouble  of  the  sum- 
mer before  to  Fort  Concho  with  Captain  Nolan,  to  serve 
as  a  witness  to  Capt.  Nolan's  report  to  the  War  Depart- 
ment. 

The  man  said,  '^Hold  on!  Hold  on!  That's  enough. 
So  you  are  one  of  the  buffalo-hunters  that  were  after  the 
Injuns?  Now,  pardner,  you  can  have  the  whole  country. 
Kill  'em  right  in  my  own  camp  if  you  want  to." 

He  then  dismounted  and  helped  me  skin  the  other  three, 
and  then  went  to  camp  with  me  and  stayed  all  night. 
Cox  and  Ryan  were  preparing  the  supper  when  we  came 
in  sight  of  the  camp-fire,  for  it  had  now  grown  dark. 

This  visitor's  home  was  in  eastern  Tom  Green  county, 
and  he  was  enthusiastic  in  praising  the  northern  hunters 
who  had  come  down  on  the  Southern  Range  and  ''fit'' 
(as  he  expressed  it)  the  Indians.  He  declared  that  now 
the  Indians  were  out  of  the  way  and  the  buffalo  about 
gone  the  country  would  soon  settle  up.  So  General  Sheri- 
dan was  right !  The  hunters  had  actually  made  this  possi- 
ble. This  visitor's  name  was  Parker.  He  told  us  that  a 
few  days  before  a  man  in  a  camp  at  the  Soda'  Springs 
had  cut  an  artery  in  his  left  arm  and  would  have  bled  to 
death,  only  he  managed  to  tie  a  strong  rawhide  string 
around  the  arm  above  the  wound,  and  by  using  the  steel 


STORY   OF   THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  343 

that  he  sharpened  the  knife  with  made  a  tomiquet  and 
stopped  the  flow  of  the  blood.  The  man,  he  said,  was 
alone,  five  miles  from  camp,  skinning  buffalo,  and  was 
afoot.  After  the  accident  he  started  for  camp,  and  lost 
his  way.  When  darkness  came  on  he  kept  wandering 
around  over  the  prairie  and  in  the  breaks  until  nearly  ex- 
hausted, when  he  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  a  worn  buffalo- 
trail,  and  had  been  sitting  there  but  a  short  time  when  he 
heard  a  noise,  and,  peering  through  the  dim  starlight,  he 
saw  three  buffaloes  coming,  down  the  trail  he  was  sitting 
in.  He  pointed  his  gun  in  their  direction  and  fired,  and 
by  accident  killed  an  old  stub-homed  bull.  The  other 
two  bolted,  and  ran  as  fast  as  they  could.  Some  two  or 
three  minutes  after  he  had  fired  at  the  buffalo  he  heard 
a  big  fifty  boom  out  plainly  and  distinctly  to  the  east- 
ward, not  far  off  from  him.  Thinking  it  to  be  an  answer 
to  a  distress  signal,  he  fired  his 'gun  in  midair,  and  heard 
the  ever-welcome,  '^Youpieway  hoi''  He  answered  back, 
and  soon  in  the  semi-darkness  he  was  piloted  into  his  own 
camp. 

And  this  is  just  simply  another  of  the  many  remark- 
able incidents  that  happened  on  the  Range  during  the 
passing  of  the  buffalo. 


THE  UNSEEN  TRAGEDY. 


The  unseen  tragedy  occurred  near  the  North  Concho, 
where  two  brothers  were  encamped  during  the  last  winter 
of  the  big  slaughter.     The  surviving  brother's  story  was* 

,'^We  were  sitting  in  our  camp,  loading  ammunition.  It 
was  about  10  a.  m.  when  my  brother  said : 

'''There  are  two  old  stub-horned  bulls  going  up  the 
ravine  that  we  found  the  Indian  skeleton  in.  I'll  take 
my  gun  and  head  them  off  at  the  top  of  the  Divide,  and 
kill  them.' 

''He  cut  across,  trotting  along  afoot,  about  three-quar- 
ters of  a  mile,  to  intercept  them. 

"From  camp  I  could  not  see  the  place  where  the  report 
of  the  gun  came  from.  I  first  heard  one  shot,  then  a  short 
interval,  then  two  shots  in  as  quick  succession  as  could 
be  fired  from  a  Sharp's  lever  gun.  Then  all  was  quiet. 
My  brother  not  returning,  after  nearly  an  hour  had  elapsed 
I  thought  he  must  have  killed  both  animals  and  was  skin- 
ning them;  hence  I  went  to  work  and  got  dinner.  After 
eating  I  hitched  up  the  team  and  drove  out  after  the  hides. 
When  I  got  on  top  of  the  hill  I  saw  a  dead  buffalo  in  front 
of  me  about  200  yards  away,  and  on  beyond  a  little  ways 
further  I  saw  another  dead  one,  and  my  brother  lying  on 
the  ground  about  fifteen  feet  behind  that  dead  animal. 
I  hurried  on  to  where  George  was  lying,  only  to  find  him 
quite  dead." 

How  did  it  happen?  No  one  knows.  His  neck  was 
broken,  and  his  body  badly  bruised.  Presumably,  he, 
thinking  the  buffalo  dead,  or  at  least  dying,  walked  up  to 

(344) 


STORY   OF  THE   SOUTHWEST  PLAINS.  345" 

him,  when  the  old  denizen  of  the  plains  made  his  last  fight 
for  life, — arose,  and  dealt  George  Bryan  the  blow  that 
broke  his  neck,  and  landed  him  where  he  lay  when  found. 
This  seems  reasonable,  from  the  fact  that  his  gun  was 
lying  quite  close  to  the  buffalo  when  found.  He  evi- 
dently fell  dead  after  snuffing  out  the  life  of  the  hunter. 
Yet  this,  like  many  other  tragedies  that  occurred  in  the 
destruction  of  the  great  herds  that  roamed  from  the  Rio 
Grande  river  to  Manitoba,  and  the^  on  farther,  is  a  mys- 
tery. 


BELLFIELD  AND  THE  DRIED  APPLES. 


During  the  time  that  many  of  the  camps  banded  to- 
gether for  mutual  protection,  and  during  the  Indian  raids 
of  1877,  George  Bellfield,  of  Adobe  Walls  and  Casa  Ar- 
marilla  notoriety,  was  camped  upon  a  tributary  of  the 
Colorado  river.  Joe  Hoard,  Joe  Rutledge  and  Frank 
Lewis  each  joined  him.  They  and  George  mutually  agreed 
to  camp  together.  None  of  them  having  a  camp  helper  at 
the  time,  it  was  agreed  among  them  to  take  '^turn  about'' 
in  doing  the  cooking.  It  must  be  remembered  that  George 
was  of  Teutonic  origin,  and  talked  very  brokenly.  As 
they  started  in,  George's  was  the  fourth  turn.*  As  the 
other  three  were  leaving  camp  one  morning  for  the  day's 
htmt,  Frank  Lewis  called  back: 

''0,  George!  Cook  some  dried  apples.  We  hain't  had 
any  for  a  long  time  now." 

•  George  made  no  pretensions  as  a  cook,  but  his  main 
hobby  was  to  have  a  great  plenty.  There  was  a  large 
army  camp  kettle  in  camp,  that  held  five  gallons,,  bought 
at  a  sale  of  condemned  goods  at  Fort  Elliott.  He  filled 
this  kettle  nearly  full  of  dried  apples,  poured  water  on  until 
the  kettle  was  full,  and  placed  it  on  hot  coals  to  simmer. 
Soon  the  apples  began  to  swell  and  heave  up  above  the 
top  of  that  camp-kettle.  George  scraped  off  a  messpan 
full  from  the  top  of  the  kettle,  shoveled  some  more  coals 
around  the  bottom,  and  went  ahead  with  his  other  duties. 
Soon  he  noticed  the  kettle  was  again  top-heavy.  He 
grabbed  up  a  frying-pan,  filled  it,  then  got  a  Dutch  oven 
and  baled  it  full.  He  thought  strange  of  it,  stopped,  and 
stood  watching  them  still  heaving  up. 

(346) 


STOKY   OF  THE   SOUTHWEST  PLAINS.  347 

He  then  ran  to  the  wagon  nearest  the  fire,  jerked  a 
wagon-sheet  from  under  his  bed,  drew  it  up  alongside  the 
kettle,  and  scooped  and  scraped  apples  off  the  top  as  fast 
as  they  would  rise,  until  he  had  a  windrow  of  partly  swelled 
apples. 

Then  the  swelling  stopped,  and  the  apples  were  cooking 
in  a  normal  condition  when  the  men  came  into  camp. 
The  first  thing  he  said  was: 

"By  shing!  der  vas  a  pig  bargain  in  dem  drite  apples. 
Dey  swell  much  as  dree  dimes.  Ven  I  goes  to  Charley 
Rath's  I  puys  me  soom  more  yust  like  dem." 

This  is  the  same  George  Bellfield  who  came  in  to  the 
Adobe  Walls,  after  the  Indians  raised  the  siege  in  1874, 
and  seeing  the  prairie  strewn  with  dead  horses  (for  half 
a  mile  aroimd  were  dead  horses  which  the  hunters  had 
killed  from'  under  mounted  warriors),  asked  the  ques- 
tion : 

"Vat  kind  of  a  disease  is  der  matter  mit  de  horses?' 

He  was  told  by  Cranky  McCabe,  ''They  died  of  lead 
poison." 

Bellfield  was  all  unconscious  that  a  fierce  attack  had 
been  made,  and  a  three-days  siege  had  been  laid  upon  a 
small  band  of  bold  buffalo-hunters,  and  this  by  as  daring 
a  combination  of  tribes  as  ever  roamed  the  Southwest. 
At  the  time  all  this  happened,  Bellfield  was  in  his  camp, 
alone,  eight  miles  up  the  Canadian  river,  while  there  were 
thousands  of  Indians  roaming  at  will  all  over  the  country. 
Yet,  somehow  they  missed  him;  otherwise  the  author 
would  never  have  seen  honest,  whole-souled  George  Bell- 
field. 


AN  INCIDENT  OF  BEN  JACKSON'S  EXPERIENCE. 


Most  all  the  big-game  hunters  were  men  of  adventure. 
They  loved  the  wild,  uninhabited  region  of  the  great  South- 
west. Nearly  all  of  them  had  read  of  Daniel  Boone  wan- 
dering alone  in  the  wilds  of  the  then  uninhabited  lands 
east  of  the  Mississippi.  Most  of  these  men  had  passed 
through  the  War  of  the  Rebellion,  on  one  side  or  the  other. 
They  were  of  necessity  self-reliant,  and  could  and  did 
meet  every  emergency  as  a  matter  of  course. 

Take  the  incident  of  Ben  Jackson.  He  left  his  lonely 
camp,  200  miles  from  Fort  Worth,  with  a  two-horse  load 
of  buffalo-hides.  Twelve  miles  from  his  starting-point 
three  Indians  made  a  running  attack  on  him.  He  killed 
one  of  them  and  the  other  two  ran  out  of  range  of  his  gun. 
He  was  on  the  divide  between  North  and  South  Pease 
rivers.  After  traveling  a  mile  or  so  from  the  dead  Indian, 
he  noticed  the  other  two,  paralleling  him, — one  on  each 
side  of  him  and  just  out  of  range.  All  at  once  ^^kerchug!" 
and  down  went  the  left  front  wheel  of  the  wagon.  The 
sudden  drop  brought  Ben  to  the  ground ;  also  gun,  mess- 
kit,  bedding,  and  ammunition-box. 

He  was  nearly  a  mile  from  wood  and  water.  The  two 
Indians  saw  the  predicament  he  was  in,  and  they  circled 
in  between  him  and  the  South  Pease  river.  He  unhitched 
his  team,  hobbled  them  close  to  the  wagon,  laid  down  flat 
upon  the  ground,  crawled  like  a  snake  towards  a  break  to 
the  right  of  him,  and  when  300  yards  from  his  outfit  he 
wriggled  himself  into  a  deep  buffalo-wallow  in  the  edge 
of  a  prairie-dog  town.  And  here  he  lay,  peeping  out  on 
the  fiat  and  waiting  events. 

(348) 


STORY   OF  THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  349 

The  hill  in  the  break  towards  which  he  had  been  crawl- 
ing was  less  than  200  yards  from  him.  While  lying  here, 
his  quick,  alert  ear  and  steady  eye  taking  everything 
around  him,  and  his  mind  busy  evolving  a  way  out  of  his 
present  predicament,  a  large  diamond  rattlesnake  came 
crawling  obliquely  just  in  front  of  him  from  a  near-by 
prairie-dog  hole.  Not  wishing  to  disclose  his  position  to 
the  Indians  by  shooting  the  snake,  he  suddenly  pressed 
the  heavy  gim-barrel  down  on  the  snake,  about  six  inches 
back  of  its.  head.  Pressing  the  gun  down  hard  with  his 
left  hand,  he  took  his  wiping-stick  in  his  right  hand  and 
played  a  tattoo  on  its  head  until  he  had  killed  it.  All 
the  time  he  was  doing  this  the  body  was  wriggling  and 
writhing,  while  the  rattlers  kept  the  ever  zee-zee-zz-z  un- 
til death. 

All  that  time  two  wild  plains  Indians  were  seeking 
Ben's  life.  The  dead  Indian's  horse  was  grazing  towards 
his  wagon.  Ben  heard  a  horse  whinny  behind  the  breaks 
he  had  started  for.  Looking  intently,  he  soon  saw  an 
Indian  crawling  around  a  point  in  the  break  towards  him. 
Without  being  seen,  Jackson  had  got  into  the  wallow.  He 
waited  until  the  Indian's  body  was  in  full  view.  The 
warrior  rose  up  in  a  sitting  posture,  when  Ben,  seeing  this, 
drew  a  bead,  fired,  and  sent  him  to  the  happy  hunting- 
grounds. 

After  the  Indian  had  rolled  over,  Ben,  thinking  per- 
haps he  was  "playing  possum"  on  him,  waited  some  little 
time,  when  he  heard  a  loud  halloo,  the  soimd  coming  from 
the  direction  of  the  wagon.  Upon  looking  around  he  saw 
"Limpy  Jim"  Smith.  Looking  again,  and  seeing  the  last 
Indian  he  shot  still  lying  where  he  fell,  he  got  up  and 
walked  out  upon  the  flat  and  hailed  the  man  at  the  wagon, 
saying:    • 


350         THE  BORDER  AND  THE  BUFFALO. 

"Glad  you  came,  for  with  Injuns,  snakes,  and  my  wagon 
breaking  down,  I've  got  a  good  deal  to  do,  and  I  want 
you  to  help  me  set  my  wagon-tire." 

Smith,  in  relating  the  affair,  said  Jackson  was  cool  and 
deliberate,  and  acted  as  if  such  things  were  of  an  every- 
day occurrence. 

Smith  was  on  his  way  north  from  the  Double  Mountain 
Fork  of  the  Brazos  to  Fort  Elliott.  He  was  on  horse- 
back, and,  seeing  Jackson's  outfit  from  a  distance,  rode 
to  it  from  sheer  curiosity;  for  people  were  few  and  far 
apart  in  that  region  at  that  time  of  the  year,  this  being 
early  in  the  fall  of  1876,  and  before  the  general  outbreaks 
of  the  spring  of  1877. 

The  rest  of  this  story, — how  the  two  men  unloaded  the 
hides,  got  the  two  dead  Indians'  ponies,  went  to  the  South 
Pease  river,  got  a  keg  of  water,  cut  some  china-wood  poles, 
brought  all  to  the  wagon,  cooked  and  ate  a  hearty  meal, 
then  made  false  spokes  for  the  wheel,  wrapped  the  felloes 
with  gunny-sacks,  heated  the  tire  with  a  buffalo-chip  fire, 
reset  the  tire,  put  on  the  wheel,  loaded  everything  onto 
the  wagon,  and  drove  that  evening  and  night  twenty-five 
miles,  and  at  daylight  next  morning  were  in  sight  of  the 
Kiowa  Peak,  where  they  felt  they  were  perfectly  safe, — 
is  only  one  of  the  many  incidents  that  happened  on  the 
buffalo  range  which  illustrate  the  correctness  of  the  say- 
ing that  ''truth  is  stranger  than  fiction." 


STORY   OF  THE   SOUTHWEST   PLAINS.  351 


MY  KANSAS  QUEEN. 

My  kingdom  is  the  prairie, 

The  grasses,  and  the  flowers; 
And  listening  to  the  summer  wind 

I  while  away  the  hours. 
My  wealth  is  but  the  love  of  you, 

Who  are  so  free  from  guile ; 
The  only  tribute  that  I  ask 

Is  the  sunshine  of  your  smile. 

CHORUS. 

My  prairie  princess, 

Give  me  your  hearii; 
ru  be  unhappy  if  we  live  apari;; 

Transform  this  lonely  life  of  mine 
To  gladsome  summer  shine; 

Be  my  sunny-haired  sweetheart, 
Be  my  Kansas  queen. 

No  matter  if  the  winter  sky 

With  clouds  is  overcast; 
Your  face  holds  all  the  sunshine 

Of  the  happy  summer  past; 
And  the  morning  star  of  boyhood 

Was  never  half  so  fair. 
As  when  the  tiny  snowflakes 

Turn  to  diamonds  in  your  hair. 

CHORUS. 

John  Guerine,  Author. 


«"»! 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 
BERKELEY 

Return  to  desk  from  which  borrowed. 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


'^^iUiw.  - 


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